


Amber Sky

by Abyssia, Songspinner



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Autistic Linhardt, Canon-Typical Violence, Eisner Twins, F/M, M/M, Multi, NB Linhardt, Polyamory, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-01-05 15:37:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 84,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21210950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abyssia/pseuds/Abyssia, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Songspinner/pseuds/Songspinner
Summary: As it turns out, Linhardt might have a lot more in common with Claude than he could ever anticipate.Their joint quest for knowledge, plunging into the church's unsavory past, instead leads them to find an unexpected shared interest in one another.After the attempted assassination of the Archbishop, a full renewal of the church leadership was deemed necessary by Rhea  along with the cleaning up of the Western Church, Rhea has seen fit to instil new leadership in the Eastern Church in hopes of revitalizing that struggling branch. The Black Eagles and Golden Deer classes, along with their twin professors have been chosen to protect the visiting bishop in hopes that nothing befalls her as nearly did to the Archbishop those moons ago...Their continued search for answers leads them to discover Abyss, while the walls that divide them threaten to close in around themWhite clouds, colored by the approaching new dawnUnrest in fodlan brews ever stronger





	1. Illuminating Mysteries part I

More often than not, if Linhardt was not holed up in his room for one reason or another, he could instead be found in the monastery’s Library. Which meant that he became quite familiar with those who also chose to spend their time there. At least, he became familiar with their faces, it’s not like he ever bothered to talk to them. The library was not somewhere one goes for social engagements. 

Rather suspiciously, as troublesome events began to unfold, Seteth had been marking more and more books as “restricted” or “unsuitable”. In particular, books related to Linhardt’s very own quest. Seteth’s marked increase in paranoia, while understandable given what befell his own sister, was no less extremely frustrating.

However, on this particular day, Linhardt spotted an opportunity. There was little that Linhardt would not consider if it meant finding answers, and so he took a risk. There was, in fact, someone else in the library that day. Claude von Riegan, one of the Library’s other usual inhabitants. Despite his easy-going demeanour, Linhardt knew enough to be able to tell that was not all there was to him. 

The Knights were all out on a mission, the professors busy with work, and most of the students had gone into town for some routine shopping. It was the perfect opportunity to try and get some less-than sanctioned reading in. 

Claude did intrigue Linhardt, but what was more so was the book that Claude was currently reading. Linhardt recognized it as one that Seteth had recently plucked out of his very own hands. Claude was sequestered away, obviously not wanting to be bothered, but Linhardt had no reason to pay that any mind. Casually, and without any sort of pretensions, Linhardt slid themself into the chair opposite Claude at the table he sat at.

“Not to bother you, well; actually it seems I am bothering you regardless.”

Claude looked up from his book, regarding Linhardt with an even gaze. ”Well would you look at this,” Claude begins. “Did I eat a bad mushroom or is the ever-secluded Linhardt starting a conversation with little old me?” Claude already did not even mind being interrupted. Seeing such bizzare, out of character behavior was enough to shift his focus entirely.

Linhardt rolls their eyes and ignores the comment. ”That book. When you are finished I would quite like to take a look.”

“Is that so?” Claude replies, searching Linhardt’s expression for some other hint at their motive. “This isn’t exactly standard reading material, but I am sure that you already knew that.”

”Yes. In fact I had been reading it before until I myself was so rudely cut off by Seteth.” Linhardt’s gaze is firm, and it’s clear that linhardt knows. Claude being in possession of this book in the first place is a rule violation. And wether linhardt would keep that information to himself would likely hinge on Claude complying. But that didn’t mean that Claude himself couldn’t try to have a little fun with it. 

"Let me guess. Seteth swooped in like a hawk to snatch it up, right? I know that feeling," Claude said, pointedly closing the book in front of him. 

Linhardt held Claude’s gaze, letting his eyelids droop to feign disinterested annoyance. “You are right about that. It seems that Seteth is our mutual foe in this pursuit of knowledge.”

Claude was curious about Linhardt, about their ambitions, goals; but beyond that, there was often a hint of melancholy in the mage’s gaze. Something that Claude would glimpse, so fleeting he thought it might even just be a figment of his imagination. 

On top of that, Linhardt was also a pleasure to look at.

"I'm afraid I can't let this book out of my sight without something in return. It took some _ expert _scheming to get it away from Seteth in the first place." He smirked, a gleam of mischief in his eyes as he met Linhardt's gaze across the table. "So, what's your best offer, Linhardt?"

Linhardt suppressed a frown as best they could. Keeping their face as blank as possible as to not give anything away. Troublesome, very troublesome. But he found that he didn’t mind a challenge from Claude. Claude wasn’t being merely obstinate or obstructive, Claude clearly had a goal, which Linhardt could appreciate. Even if Linhardt was perceived to have few ambitions; he at least still knew how to achieve those few ambitions that he had. While it was clear that Claude wanted something; _ what _ he wanted exactly was far less clear. Claude was the one with the information, and so what could Linhardt possibly offer in return?

“It depends on what you’re after. I can’t say that I have much to offer in the way of material incentive to the _ heir _of house Riegan.” Linhardt said in their usual lilting drawl.

“You’re a smart guy, Linhardt, I’m sure you can think of something.”

Linhardt then threw up his hands in a motion of mock defeat. “I have nothing on my person to offer you. Nothing before you but little-old-me.”

Claude rubbed his chin, as though considering Linhardt's words. Actually, he'd been hoping Linhardt would say something like that. "Just you, huh? That'll do." He gave a wry grin. "If you want to read this book, you'll have to read it _ with _me. Not here, though. For one thing, Seteth might show up if we take too long. For another, there's nowhere comfortable for two people to sit."

Claude wasn't sure entirely where he was going with this if he were, to be honest. Maybe he just wanted to see Linhardt's reaction. Would they balk, or play along? ...or would they be legitimately interested? It was a brave new world, Claude thought to himself. He was already eager to see how it would play out. Those pretty hands...that melancholy gaze. Claude was dying to know what laid behind them. And he was possessed with a peculiar surety that he would be able to lift those spirits of Linhardt.

Linhardt responded rather evenly. “Why yes, that seems most _ prudent. _ Avoiding Seteth must be our top priority as we are intending on defying at least _ one _of his strict rules.” Linhardt has not been planning on this specifically, but the opportunity was too good to ignore. They had a suspicion that an unpleasant revelation might lie in the pages of that book.. And so occupying himself with the enigmatic Claude seemed like the perfect way to soften the blow. 

“Where do you suggest we go? Somewhere suitably _ secluded _for our illicit activities?” Linhardt placed emphasis on the appropriate words, his grin becoming a little more daring. Linhardt noticed how Claude’s eyes seemed to follow his hands, and so he finished his sentence with a flourish of his slender fingers.

It became apparent to Claude that Linhardt was _ intentionally _flirting now. That little move with his hands gave it away. He stood, tucking the book under one arm, and gave Linhardt a secretive smile. "Come with me and find out." Linhardt’s question was a very good one, there weren’t exactly many places within the monastery where they could be suitably away from prying eyes. He led the way out of the library and down the stairs. Linhardt rose and followed Claude, uncharacteristically energized. He stayed about a half-pace behind Claude as he leads the way. 

Claude steered their path past the training grounds into the woods beyond. The sun would be up for another hour or two yet, there was plenty of light to read by. On slow afternoons, he often enjoyed naps on a soft, mossy mound under a particular tree--nothing like napping outdoors in the fresh air. 

As they walked, he glanced sidelong at Linhardt and lifted an eyebrow, smirking. "So. At least one, huh? Are there more of Seteth's rules you'd like to break with me, too? "

Of course, Claude caught on to his obvious allusion. The question now was how far Claude would string him along? Claude, despite his flirtatious nature, didn’t seem the type to actually want a quick hook-up in exchange. It seemed more likely that Claude just wanted to see if he could get the ever-sullen and disinterested fellow student to dance a little for his amusement.

Linhardt pursed their lips thoughtfully. “I mean, you have a bit of a reputation for skirting around the rules against ‘fraternization’ amongst the students. I don’t doubt that someone who spots us might get the wrong idea,” Linhardt strode ahead, sitting down at the base of a particularly shady and comfortable looking tree. They let their long legs splay out to the side, watching Claude with the eyes of an observer. “If we break one rule already what’s the harm in adding more to the list?” Linhardt kept it vague, testing the waters, more curious how Claude would fill in the gaps.

Linhardt was being unusually personable. Maybe this book was really that important to him--important enough that he'd feign interest in socialising and flirting when he really wanted nothing more than to do his research in peace. Or...perhaps they were really interested in him? He had to find out.

"I'll have you know that any 'fraternizing' I've done has been completely proper and well-intentioned." He sat down beside Linhardt under the tree comfortably, casually, as though this was something the two of them did every day. He didn't think he'd ever been this close to the mage before—close enough to take in the details of his face, and the colour of his eyes.

"But who cares what other people think? This is about the rules _ we _want to break together." He let the proposal linger for a moment, sitting close enough that their shoulders touched. "For the sake of learning, of course," he added. "I think you and I have a lot more in common than I'd thought."

"He rested his hands upon the now closed book on his lap"Claude was curious about how long it would take for Linhardt to insist they return to their scheduled reading, though he kept watch for any signs of discomfort.

“I do wonder how similar we really are,” Linhardt said, reaching a hand to cover Claude’s where it rested on the book. Linhardt observed Claude’s reaction, he seemed taken off guard by Linhardt’s advance, which they found surprised them But Claude, of course, retaliated before Linhardt could even dwell further on it. 

"So, is this secluded enough for you?"Claude asked as he nudged Linhardt playfully with his elbow.

“I would say so, yes.” Linhardt met Claude’s eyes and gave him his sweet smile. It was actually quite pleasant to sit with someone like this, Linhardt thought. Naps were usually a solitary activity, but this, with the warmth of another person nearby, Linhardt felt a blissful nap would come even easier. But despite that he did not feel even a bit drowsy, they were far too distracted by Claude’s rather soft-looking lips; his thick, dark, curls and the charming braid that framed his face. 

Claude's eyebrows lifted, seeing that smile come out like clouds parting to reveal the moon at night. It lit up Linhardt's face in a way he'd rarely seen, if ever. 

When Linhardt's thumb embarked to pry up his palm, Claude renewed his left hand's grip on the tome with a smirk. "Trying to distract me into giving up the book, huh? Not so fast."

Linhardt let out a minute gasp, their cheeks flushed but managed to recollect himself before getting lost in the sensation. Linhardt has in fact miscalculated. With how overly sensitive his senses were, allowing Claude to touch his hand was a huge opening. Feeling Claude’s calloused fingertips against Linhardt’s comparatively soft skin sent pricks of electricity that lit up his nerves. 

Claude’s lips spread further into a satisfied grin. "You see? We have all kinds of things in common. An interest in forbidden Church literature, a penchant for outdoor napping, and now your crafty scheme to get your hands on the book without having to pay my price." He winked. "I'm impressed! Really."

Linhardt was forever incapable of telling a lie. Even if he could conceal certain emotions and intentions; They could never falsify them. So even if They were near certain his feelings were being toyed with, he was being genuine. Linhardt’s lips turned down into a small pout. “I was not intending to weasel out of our deal, merely move this little exchange along a bit. Although I do appreciate the compliment.” Linhardt had to break eye contact for a moment. The look of admiration and interest in Claude’s eyes looked _nearly _sincere causing a small burst of hope that they hastily quashed down. “I thought that reading this book along with you was the price...” Linhardt smirked. “Unless...there is something else you need from me to seal the deal?” Linhardt was running out of guesses as to what Claude’s rue intentions actually were. The remaining possibilities being almost equally thrilling and frightening to dwell on.

Claude was still unsure as to Linhardt’s actual feelings about this little exchange. Was he enjoying the company? Or was he in fact eager to take the book and be rid of Claude? But what Claude was sure of, was that Linhardt’s cheeks had filled with a flattering blush and that the rush of colour made his companion even more alluring.

Claude kept Linhardt's hand held fast as he waggled the book like bait, just out of the mage's reach. "Oh, it was. But now that you're offering..." A sly smile crept onto his face. "I _ am _curious to see what other...interests we might share. Aren't you?” 

Linhardt’s hand twitches in Claude’s grip but he doesn’t try to pull away. Claude’s hand is so warm, and the contact feels so nice. In a moment of intoxication, Linhardt shifts his hand’s position and intertwined his fingers with Claude’s, holding on a little too tightly. “Better be careful about what you suggest, it would be a shame if I ended up with the wrong idea now wouldn’t it?” Linhardt said, meeting Claude’s smirk with a grin of his own.

Claude’s eyes flicked down to their intertwined hands, but he kept his tone even as he continued. “Well, as it happens, I don't have anywhere else to be for a while. How about you?"

“I am free for the time being. I dare say this is even more interesting than just another nap.” Linhardt only just managed to keep his usual tone, even as his eyelids began to droop and his breathing grew heavy. He leans in a little closer, ignoring the book and absorbing Claude’s intense gaze.

As Linhardt grew closer, it all started to crash into place in Claude’s head, and in a moment of quick thinking, he put up one hand to gently push back on Linhardt’s shoulder.

"...okay, time out." His tone was gentle but firm as was the gaze that studied Linhardt’s face. He put the book down entirely in the grass. He didn't unlace his fingers from Linhardt's, though. "I like a good mystery as much as anyone, but before we get any further down this path, I have to ask. Why did you agree to all this?"

Linhardt blinks, letting himself be pushed back by Claude’s gentle hand. It took Linhardt a moment to process what was happening. It didn’t make sense. If Claude really did just wanted to mess around or play with him. Another brief flicker of hope flared up in his chest.

Linhardt replied. “I wanted that book obviously. But since you clearly wouldn’t give it up without something in return, I figured I’d indulge in my unfortunate little crush, however futile,” he said with a dry scoff, breaking eye contact with Claude at last. “Although I still have no idea what you could possibly be after. ” His fingers gripped Claude’s hand again, trembling slightly.

Claude watched Linhardt turn away with a sinking feeling. Did Linhardt really think...that Claude would just play with him like that? It wasn’t the most outlandish assumption but...Linhardt’s eyes just look so sad.

"...a crush, huh?" He kept his tone light, but gently teasing, not sarcastic or mocking. He felt Linhardt's hand tremble in his and squeezed a little, just enough to show he wasn't going anywhere. He hadn't expected to find this kind of vulnerability beneath Linhardt's usual dispassionate pragmatism. "Linhardt, believe it or not, for once I didn't _ have _a plan. Sure, at first asking for an exchange was just for fun. But the rest? I enjoyed it. I am enjoying it. And I really would enjoy reading with you, too." He chuckled. "To be honest, I wasn't sure that you really wanted to be here. I'm sorry if I made you feel like you had to indulge me just to borrow a book. Say the word and I'll happily hand it over. But..."

He smiled, hoping to coax Linhardt's smile back out as well. It was such a sincere, subtly charming smile, like a flower that only bloomed once a moon. "I may be after your secrets, but more than that, I'd like to get to know you better. You're a fascinating guy." He lifted Linhardt's hand as though he were going to escort him to the dance floor, leaning forward just a bit. "Would you do me the honor of getting cozy under this tree and delving into the Church's deepest, darkest mysteries with me?"

Claude, didn’t actually have a plan? This wasn’t just some scheme after all? Could he really—

Linhardt had to think carefully, lest he risk blurting out even more embarrassing vulnerabilities. Linhardt let out a short amused huff. “I see now. How interesting that we both assumed that...” he muttered, nervously pushing his hair behind his ear with his free hand. “Of course I _ want _to be here. I never exert effort unless it’s for something that interests me.” Linhardt ran his thumb along the back of Claude’s hand, his fingers fluttering as he thought.

“For now I will choose to believe you.” if Claude had just been looking to play around, Claude wouldn’t have stopped to make sure it was what Linhardt really wanted. 

Claude’s smile was comforting, and Linhardt felt a little more at ease. But still, they did not like being at a disadvantage. “I think you have heard enough of my ‘secrets’ for now,” he then pulled himself closer, leaning his shoulder into Claude’s. “And like you, I like the allure of a good mystery. And right now you are just as—if not more fascinating than whatever the church might be hiding.” He smiled again, finally. “So I might as well, saves some effort to explore both at once, wouldn’t you say?”

The light touch of Linhardt's fingers on Claude’s skin was relaxing and enticing at the same time, like a natural companion to the soft grass and cool breeze. "You drive a hard bargain. Though I'm flattered to rate so highly on the list of things that interest you."

He gently extracted his hand after a moment in favour of settling his arm around Linhardt's slender shoulders, retrieving the book with his other hand and opening it up across his lap so they could both see it.

Linhardt scarcely had a moment to miss the warmth before he was suddenly pulled closer. He gave a little involuntary shudder before leaning into Claude’s warmth. He could feel Claude’s defined shoulder and chest muscles, even though the cloth of his uniform, and it felt very nice.

"And maybe you're right--I did learn something about you today, it's only fair that you learn something about me. Anything, in particular, you want to know?"

Linhardt’s eyes first fell to the book briefly. His fingers traced over the aged pages of the book shared before them, the words starting to build up in his mind. The book was an old chronicle, of the first Great War. Written by one of the first crest scholars while the original 10 elites were still alive.

“Tell me, Claude. What did you think when you were first forced to take a life? How did you really feel about it?” Linhardt asked, his eyes then turning to meet Claude’s gaze. While it might seem a bit out of nowhere, it was something that had been bothering him. The horror of killing refused to leave his mind. And Linhardt was curious if perhaps the laidback seeming Claude would have an unexpected answer. 

Sure Linhardt could ask about Claude’s mysterious background, his frankly bizarre sudden appearance as the legitimate heir of a house not known to have any heirs as long as Linhardt had been aware. But that didn’t matter to Linhardt, none of that nobility nonsense really did. What mattered was trying to free up this tangled mess of painful thoughts in his head even if only a little

Claude blinked, taken truly off-guard for the first time this whole conversation. He leaned his head back against the tree, considering how best to answer. Unlike most of the other nobles here, his childhood had not exactly been peaceful. Even after coming to Fodlan, Judith and his grandfather had warned him to beware of assassination plots, and his parents' letters all reminded him what was at stake if he revealed too much about himself to the wrong people. It was exhausting, frankly, and more than a little unnerving. And the first time he'd had to take a life—well, it hadn't been alongside his Golden Deer classmates. He tried not to let himself tense up thinking about it; he knew Linhardt would feel it if he did, and didn't want the mage to think he was upset at the question.

"...to be honest? I was furious." He watched a few puffy white clouds drift across the sky for a moment before turning back to meet Linhardt's gaze again. "Furious that I had to do it just to protect myself. That anyone would put me in that position, to begin with. Desperately glad the victory was mine. That I walked away and they didn't. And...a little nauseous." He admitted the last part with a rueful shrug, not at all convinced that he was helping. 

Hearing Claude’s answer, he felt a little of that worry fade away. Since most of his classmates had taken to the death so easily; Linhardt had even started to think that _ he _was the one who was out of sorts after all.

Linhardt’s eyes softened while Claude met their gaze again. He couldn’t help it, he was so incredibly relieved. If Claude had simply been callous about killing, Linhardt wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Except perhaps resign himself to the fact that those he loved were all capable of senseless killing. 

Linhardt lifted his hand from the book and touched the side of Claude’s face pondering momentarily. “That’s what I felt, well— mostly the latter part. Nausea, _overwhelmingly _.” He had been dreading Claude’s answer, his classmates’ reactions all rattling about in his head. Especially that of those who took victory in stride without even a moment’s pause for the person whose life they had just ended. “It is simply something that I can not seem to push from my mind. Ever since my class’ first assignment; and even when I’m reading these old war records,” he paused, glancing away, his lips turning down into a small embarrassed pout. 

"Linhardt, you could have asked me anything. Why this?"

“I suppose...I simply wanted to know if—” he blinked as he found his thoughts. “To confirm if we were also similar in that regard.” His voice returned to its lilting cadence for those few words. But regardless, his genuinely thrilled smile came back to his lips.

Claude felt a rush of relief at seeing Linhardt’s smile again. He tilted his head to lean into the touch, wishing he could just change the subject, or end the conversation in a more daring way. But he wondered whether Linhardt would still feel the same knowing how Claude had taught himself to bury those feelings and adapt. After the first assassin, he'd had to face the facts: his life was not a safe or peaceful one, due mostly to factors beyond his control, and he would have to survive--and to fight--to rise above it someday. It wasn't right, but it was true, and that was that. He hated to give Linhardt a reason to stop smiling again, but though he might be cagey, he didn't want to mislead. Not about something this important.

"Well...that was the first time. Not the only time." He frowned in thought. "Don't take this the wrong way, Linhardt, but are you sure the Officer's Academy is for you? Much as it's in my personal best interests for you to stick around," he flashed a quick grin, "I have a feeling we're going to see significantly more bloodshed before we graduate."

“If you found a way to suppress those feelings after your first kill, that seems reasonable to me. Perhaps it just means that you are stronger than I am, in that way.” Linhardt said, his fingers beginning to wander slightly on Claude’s face. His thumb stroked Claude’s cheek, feeling the very light stubble, his fingertips digging into the short and curly hair near his ear. The tactile sensations helped occupy him and calm his mind. Linhardt felt confident enough to indulge in some of his behaviours that might come off as “weird”, given how Claude hadn’t rebuked him for his socially incoherent topic change.

“Well, nominally I came here to get a little freedom from my parents. I also wanted access to the library and the Crest scholarship that gathers here. In the absence of any dedicated research institute...” They trailed off. “And well, _ someone _had to keep an eye on Caspar,” he muttered under his breath, the words tasting bitter on his tongue.

The part of Claude's mind that was always scheming and filing away information thought, of course, this is the perfect place for Crest research, and wondered what that tone said about Linhardt's true feelings about Caspar. But Linhardt's fingers against his skin felt like feathers and silk, and he couldn't help getting badly distracted from what, he reminded himself, was supposed to be a serious conversation. About serious things. Right?

"I don't know if 'stronger' is the word I'd use... But enough about me." He pulled Linhardt just a little closer. "You _ did _agree to get cozy, remember?" His hand slid from Linhardt's shoulder to the back of his neck, where Claude gently tangled his fingers into the mage's soft hair while he leaned forward to press their lips together in a light kiss, pausing ever so briefly at the last second to give Linhardt a chance to stop, if he wanted.

Claude...hadn't really planned that, either.

Linhardt probably should have been offended that Claude was basically ignoring him and trying to distract from their conversation, but that was absolutely the last thing on his mind now. When Claude answered and pulled himself closer, Linhardt’s eyes fell shut just as Claude leaned in to press their lips together. Maybe Claude wasn’t “stronger” in that way, but he was certainly bolder, going for what Linhardt had been wanting to do since they first sat by the tree together. 

Claude’s lips were even softer than he had imagined, causing Linhardt to let out a soft gasp that boarded on a moan. When Claude paused, asking for permission, Linhardt grinned. “Yes, I did promise that,” Linhardt muttered against his lips before continuing the kiss. 

What was the point of dwelling on things he couldn’t change right now anyway? Especially now when the sensation of Claude’s hands and lips on him crowded out any other thought. 

There was no space left for planning even in Linhardt’s mind now. Linhardt’s right hand then moved from Claude’s cheek to tangle in his hair, his left arm went to loop tightly around Claude’s waist pulling him even closer.

Claude tried not to feel like he had to be careful as if Linhardt was made of porcelain. It was just a faint impression in the back of his mind, a thought conjured by Linhardt's delicate features and slender frame. Linhardt's arm snaking around his waist and pulling him closer helped dispel the notion, and in a moment, Claude's other hand abandoned the book in his lap to meet small of his back. This close, the mage smelled like grass and sunshine, ink and parchment. He dared to lean a little harder into the kiss, taking a long moment to enjoy the warmth and the pressure, the feeling of Linhardt's fingers tugging at his hair, just before pulling back with a slow smile.

"So, any idea how many of Seteth's rules we've broken so far?" he murmured, resting his forehead against Linhardt's and suddenly feeling more relaxed than he had in weeks.

Linhardt was glad that Claude didn’t seem to be holding back, what with how delicately he had been treating them this whole time. It was still a fairly tame kiss, but pleasant all the same, and Linhardt savoured it the whole time. The taste, the smell, the tactile sensations from their tongues briefly brushing together, to Claude’s hand tangled in Linhardt’s hair.

“Not nearly enough if I’m being honest,” Linhardt said with a short huff. A little annoyed that Claude had pulled away, but understanding all the same. Linhardt appreciated the chance to catch his breath, keeping his eyes closed as their foreheads rested against one another. “If we stay out here long enough we could just add breaking curfew to that list.”

The idea of staying out here long enough to break curfew sounded pretty appealing to Claude. When was the last time he'd just let himself lose track of time? "Not enough, huh?" He smirked. "I'm sure there's something we can do about that." 

Linhardt let the hand in Claude’s hair fall to his shoulder, fiddling with the bright yellow house leader cape on the way down to rest his hand on Claude’s chest. Already Linhardt’s thoughts were drifting back towards dark places. “But in the end; it doesn’t so much matter the rules we break as it matters _ who _ we are breaking the rules with, no?” He gave Claude’s nose an affectionate little nudge with his own as he spoke.

Claude grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners just a bit as he felt about to melt from the endearing gesture. "Point taken." He turned to press Linhardt up against the tree, gently but firmly, before leaning in for another kiss. With one hand resting on the wide trunk just beside Linhardt's head to steady them and the other lightly pinning him to the tree, he closed his eyes.

Linhardt let himself moved against the tree, eyes falling shut, keeping one hand on Claude’s lower back to keep him close. He let out a satisfied sigh as their lips met again, not minding the uncomfortable bark texture when Claude was occupying his senses again. Linhardt grinned against his lips, his right hand moving to Claude’s open collar. He brushed his fingertips over Claude’s throat, gliding down his collarbone, giving a bit more of that feather-light touch that Claude seemed so fond of. 

Claude chuckled, low and deep in his throat, at the touch of Linhardt's fingers, a sound not of mirth but of enjoyment. Right now, he felt like he really could stay here all day, letting Linhardt explore as much as he wanted. Even as Linhardt seemed to be restraining himself for the moment, it was clear that his fingers were eager to push further under that loose collar.

Linhardt’s touch made the raging torrent of thoughts in his mind calm, even if only for a moment. All of the stress and responsibilities of his life felt distant and almost trivial compared to the fascinating mage that seemed to find himself to be a worthwhile use of his attention.

After a little while, though, he detected the telltale signs of Linhardt starting to get sleepy. He pulled back again, bringing up a hand to gently push a stray bit of hair out of Linhardt's eyes. "Ah, I knew I couldn't compete with napping forever." He sighed dramatically in mock injury, then met Linhardt's gaze with a crafty gleam in his eyes. "Mark my words, Linhardt, I'll figure out a scheme to become more interesting than sleep one of these days."

In all honesty, Linhardt desperately did not want to sleep, not when Claude was so warm. But Claude was right, that warmth was also pulling him into drowsiness. Linhardt met Claude’s mischievous grin with one of his own, taking hold of Claude’s hand and gently moving it. “You are more interesting, quite frankly, but sometimes I don’t have a choice,” Linhardt said, pushing himself off of the tree and leaning his bodyweight fully into Claude. He pulled one leg out from under them. With one hand on Claude’s chest, the other on his back, Linhardt guided Claude to lie down with him on the soft grass, still comfortably in the shade. “I can at least choose with whom I take my naps.” He said, looking down at Claude while suspended above him.

Claude didn't resist, letting Linhardt push him down into the grass. "Coming from you, I think that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said about me."

Linhardt savoured that moment for a bit, quite enjoying the look of Claude splayed out under him. “And I think I will nap...right here...” he said, patting Claude’s chest pointedly. 

Claude watched Linhardt’s look of satisfaction, amused to see a bit of his own mischievous glint reflecting in his eyes. But instead of commenting on it, he stretched slowly and lazily under that gaze, almost basking, as though he didn't intend to move from this spot until Linhardt was good and ready to let him. “And who am I to deny you your choice of pillow?” Claude, said, moving one hand behind his head while wrapping the other around Linhardt’s shoulders. Linhardt let out a satisfied sigh, placing his cheek against the space just below his collarbone, Linhardt’s hand rested on Claude’s chest near his own face. 

"You know, I always like a good nap under a tree like this. Warm sunshine, fresh breeze. It's an honour having the King of Naps himself here to share it with. I'd bow, my liege, but I have a feeling I'm not going anywhere for a while."

Linhardt let out a soft melodic laugh. “I think how you are now counts well enough as showing fealty to your _ Liege, _” he said, playfully brushing his fingertips over Claude’s cheek. Linhardt did feel completely at ease, although he could scarcely believe it. Even if this was only a passing moment, even if the suggestion behind their words never played out, Linhardt was content at that moment. “And you are correct. You are not going anywhere until I finish my nap. I command it~” Linhardt purred, his breath tickling against the exposed skin of Claude’s chest.

Claude closed his eyes and ran his hand once through Linhardt's soft hair before letting it rest again around his shoulders. "Anything you command shall be done, my liege."

He let himself drift off to sleep, lulled by the rhythm of Linhardt's breathing and the chirping of birds overhead. He wasn't sure where this was going, if anywhere, but right now it didn't really matter. There was a certain comfort in feeling safe, and while he knew he'd never feel _ truly _safe until his dream was realized, lying here with Linhardt to nap in the woods was a pretty close approximation, even if only just for a little while.


	2. Illuminating Mysteries part II

For all Linhardt knew, this could be the only time he got to off doze in Claude’s arms like this, and so he wanted to savour it. The last thing he wanted was to wake up, especially not by the chill of evening sweeping in as the sun slid below the horizon. Linhardt, not having much in the way of body fat to insulate him was quite vulnerable to even a mild chill and as such found himself shivering himself awake while still clinging to Claude.

He awoke with a few slow blinks, taking in Claude’s peaceful expression before shifting into an upright position to fully take in their surroundings. Judging by the angle of the sun, it was well past curfew. Which meant that they would have the monastery guards to contend with if they wanted to avoid consequences. 

“Claude,” Linhardt said, pawing at Claude to make sure he was awake. Despite how nonchalant they had been, Linhardt did not much like the idea of being caught outside in the dark during such a dangerous time. “_ Claude _.”

Claude's eyes snapped open abruptly, and for a split second, he thought he was in danger. He took in Linhardt's worried face and insistent tone, and relaxed again. "Whoa, okay, I'm awake, I'm awake."

He sat up and glanced around, then up at the sky. "Oh, whoops. I guess it's probably after curfew by now, huh?" He sounded pretty casual about it, despite the tense atmosphere around the monastery lately and the earlier curfew specifically for their safety. He yawned and ran a hand through his hair, which was at this moment less 'artfully dishevelled' and more 'a mess of tangled curls.' How did Linhardt manage to keep his hair in order even after sleeping all day? Would the mysteries about him never cease?

Linhardt frowned, not at Claude’s relaxed tone about the curfew violation; but about how irritatingly handsome he still was even when running a hand through his messy hair. He was far too handsome in general, and at this moment Linhardt found his highly distracting. 

"Sorry, I hope I didn't cause you to sleep through any classes or anything."

Linhardt rolled his eyes and got to his feet, brushing off some blades of grass and turning back towards the monastery. 

“I _ assume _that you must have some sort of tactic to get us back inside without being detected?” He drawled, pointedly avoiding looking at Claude for the moment while he thought. “I don’t care about missing classes but I would rather not have to endure extra chores as punishment for a curfew violation. Waste of precious energy.”

"Not to worry, Linhardt, I _ always _have a scheme." It did not escape Claude's notice that Linhardt was suddenly acting much less affectionate and open than earlier. And for the moment, Claude had no clue as to why. "Besides, you must have slept through plenty of curfews in your time, right? I can't count the number of times someone's asked 'where's Linhardt?' and it turned out you were off snoozing somewhere. That's what earned you the napping crown, you know."

Linhardt shrugged again. “I don’t actually enjoy sleeping overnight outdoors if I can avoid it. If I’m missing at night I’m probably just somewhere in the monastery.” Even if it was a tease, Linhardt’s nature compelled him to just reply logically as usual. Flirts were fun but inaccurate information was more irritating than Claude’s still distractingly handsome face.

He stands and stretches, brushing off some grass of his own. "Anyway, this time the plan is pretty simple. There's a secret passage that leads back into the library. All we have to do is get to the entrance without being spotted by the guards. With a bit of surveillance and good timing, _ possibly _a convenient distraction, we'll be golden."

He started to walk past Linhardt but paused. "Hang on. Don't move." He reached out and plucked a stray leaf out of Linhardt's hair, then handed it to him with a grin. Linhardt took the leaf, not even having time to react to Claude’s cheeky gesture. Letting the leaf fall to the ground he stooped down to grab the book that brought them there in the first place, before falling into step with Claude again. He kept close to Claude’s side, with his hand clutching the book tightly to his chest. 

Linhardt could only keep up the calm and sociable affect up for so long, and after being just woken up he had scarcely the energy to maintain it. “I’ll just let you lead the way _ master tactician _if we get caught you have to take my extra chores,” he said before his voice broke into a long yawn. He trusted Claude to have a plan, but unknowns always bothered Linhardt the most. He didn’t know how getting back into the Monastery would play out, nor did he know where things with Claude would go, if anywhere.

"Master tactician? Sheesh, who came up with that one?" Claude wondered if perhaps Linhardt was just grumpy from only just having woken up. Or perhaps from over-sleeping, as Linhardt seems grumpy and dour most of the time. 

Claude glanced over at Linhardt as they walked through the trees, back toward the monastery walls. Linhardt looked cold, but he also looked irritated, so Claude refrained from putting an arm around him. Instead, he laced his fingers together behind his head as he casually strolled, like they weren't currently breaking yet another rule, and took a deep breath of evening air. "So, you don't like camping?" he asked. "Bundled up in a blanket under the stars, picking out constellations. It's good for the soul." It also keeps assassins guessing when you don't always sleep in your bedroom. 

“Camping is tolerable if the tents are adequate. I was just a very sickly child, so I tend to avoid things that would wear me out if I can.” Even though they loved to nap, They’d always deeply despised being confined to a sickbed. “Stargazing, however, is another matter. That I quite enjoy. ”

"Stargazing is a thumbs up, huh? Would you look at that, even more interests we share!"

Indeed, lying out in a field, curled up in blankets while watching the stars sounded lovely; That is, if there was someone he fancied out there with him. Like perchance Claude...before he got carried away.

"Then again, I guess we'll get plenty of sleeping outdoors next time we head out on the march, so maybe you've got the right idea after all. Warm and cozy, safe behind walls. There's something to be said for that, too."

Ah, marching Linhardt did not want to think about when they would next have to be dispatched to quell whatever silly rebellion, or cleanup whatever slovenous bandit raid and he shuddered at the thought. He clammed up a little bit, unable to think of what to say or how to communicate what he wanted. Instead, they let their torso droop to the side, his shoulder nudging against Claude very lightly. They kept walking through the woods, the Monastery now practically looming over them. 

Claude spared Linhardt a curious glance at his growing proximity. But before the banter could continue, Claude put a finger up to his lips to signal quiet. He crouched behind a tree, pulling Linhardt by the hand. With careful eyes, he watched the walls until he could pick out the patrols both on the ground and up in the towers. The entrance to the secret passage wasn't that far, but they would have to lift a heavy trap door, and the treeline didn't extend all the way there

He hated to cause a stir when everyone was already on edge, but he didn't want Byleth getting mad at Linhardt. Or worse, _ Seteth _ getting mad at Linhardt. This whole excursion _ was _technically Claude's fault, after all.

"...Ready?" he whispered, close to Linhardt's ear. "How do you feel about casting a little magic to distract the guards into going over...there?" He chose a spot and pointed: a little grove of trees on the other side of the grounds, already conspicuous for the abundance of bushes at its edge. "Nothing fancy, just something to attract their attention."

“I’m sure I can think of something,” Linhardt said before regrettably having to let go of Claude’s hand to ready a spell.

He searched around until his eyes landed on a suitably large boulder nearby, and then glanced to where Claude indicated. With a thrust of his hand into the air, the boulder behind them disappeared and then reappeared directly above the conspicuous grove. The loud cracking of tree trunks sounded out across the grounds, followed by the fall and crunch of trees. 

Glancing to Claude, Linhardt saw that he was all but transfixed for a moment. That look of countless ideas flitting through his mind; Linhardt couldn’t help but feel a little smug at that reaction. Claude was now thoroughly reminded that Linhardt, while soft-spoken and bookish, was also a powerful mage. Ingenuity and creativity could outmatch even the strongest warrior or the most powerful weapon.

Linhardt then grabbed his hand as the saw the guards heading in the direction of the flung bolder. Claude broke from his trance and readied for their sprint. "Now!" he hissed and ran for it. Linhardt held on to Claude’s hand as tight as they could, the two of them ducking down as they left the treeline behind. When they reached the walls of the monastery, Claude released Linhardt’s hand and crouched down in the grass. After a few moments, Claude’s hand found the concealed latch of the trapdoor. He braced his shoulder against the wall and heaved the heavy door open to reveal the earthen passage beyond. "Go, quick!”

Linhardt was admittedly impressed by how easily Claude lifted the trapdoor despite his willowy appearance. They nodded and hopped down into the dingy passageway. He let out a grunt of disgust, quickly lighting a harmless firelight with his right hand, the large tome still under his other arm. He sent the light into the air above his head where it flew around in a lazy circle, shining flickering light all down their path. 

Claude hopped down into the passage after Linhardt and carefully closed the door after them. "Whew! Victory!" He brushed the dirt from his hands and laughed, unconcerned about the stuffy, dusty environs. "That was some A+ scheming material, Linhardt, I'm impressed. Better than I could have imagined." 

Linhardt had begun to walk down the passageway ahead of him. Claude glanced up at the flickering lights shining overhead and watched the shadows they made dance down the tunnel and over Linhardt's features. "Oh, that's convenient. Good thinking. Pretty, too."

“Now, where exactly does this passageway lead to?” Linhardt asked, his eyes searching around what he could see of the tunnel.

Claude skipped up behind him, staying about a half-pace away. "It comes out near the library and the faculty offices, behind the building. From there, it's a hop, skip, and a jump back to the dorms, and no one need be the wiser about our little rendezvous.”

Linhardt smirked briefly at Claude before he switched the book to his other arm, leaving the hand nearest to Claude open for the holding, but not making any other move. “Must be an evacuation tunnel of some kind then. Doesn’t look terribly used...” He muttered, slowing his pace just a little to match step with Claude. Even if he still wanted to be able to glimpse Claude out of the corner of his eye while they walked, he desperately wanted to be out of the tunnel.

Linhardt deliberately falling back in step with him prompted Claude to pay a little more attention to his body language. He looked uncomfortable with the tunnel and he'd moved the book for no obvious reason. Maybe he didn't like the dark. Or the dirt. Or both.

“Well if we are spotted together on the way back, it might start a rumour or two.”

"Rumors, huh? What kind of rumours?" He rubbed his chin, as though pondering the question. "Oh, you must mean the ones about the giant man-eating goblin that lives under the monastery. You know, I never did figure out how it was supposed to have gotten around so fast without getting detected..." He gasps, turning toward Linhardt with eyes wide. "You don't think it uses _ these very tunnels _, do you?" He grabbed Linhardt's hand and started to run. "I can hear it gaining on us right now! Run, Linhardt!"

Linhardt let out a scoff. “I am _ not _about to run unless absolutely necessary,” he said, holding the book against his chest with both hands and increasing his pace again. Perhaps Claude was trying to help, but Linhardt just found it draining. The tunnel was damp, sticky. The humidity was high and it just felt like he was being covered in a layer of grime. It was a heavy, putrid feeling that reminded Linhardt of things he didn’t want to remember. 

Along the tunnel walls, he searched for an exit, anything like a ladder or the handle for a door. He quickened his pace, sending up a few more firelights, causing them to break into smaller flickers of lights that dispersed like fireflies. “Just tell me when we are close. I imagine I’ll need your help to open the door!”

Claude held up both hands in surrender, letting Linhardt get ahead of him for a moment before catching up again. "Alright, I admit it, I'm having a little too much fun. The exit's not much farther."

Sure enough, soon the firelights illuminated an old iron ladder up ahead. Claude jogged forward and clambered up, pushing open the trap door to let in the moonlight and fresh air. He climbed the rest of the way to the surface and then turned back to hold out a hand to help Linhardt up, given that he had a book to carry. "All joking aside, I'm sorry--this whole mess _ is _my doing. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

He gratefully took Claude’s hand and let himself be hoisted out into the moonlit monastery, taking in another huge breath and staggering forward. “Oh...thank the goddess...” he muttered, taking a few moments to breathe and try and rid himself of the oppressive drench from the tunnels.

After a few moments, he turned around, raising his eyebrows at Claude. “I mean it was your doing, but I did agree to it all. Regardless, you did get us back in the monastery without being detected.” He gave Claude a small grin, turning himself in the direction of the dormitories.

“But still, I do welcome you to make up for the _ terrible _ inconvenience of keeping me out after curfew and then dragging me through some filthy _ hole in the ground _.”

Claude would have to remember Linhardt’s distaste for dark damp places, and so he filed it away in his mind. For the moment, he wanted to make sure that Linhardt’s night ended on a high note.

"Your wish is my command, my liege," he said, finally giving Linhardt that bow he'd promised earlier. "Merely speak it, and it shall be done." He came up from the bow to meet Linhardt's gaze with a roguish smirk.

Linhardt blushed again but didn’t look away. Claude was just as enchantingly handsome in the moonlight, and Linhardt found him just as difficult to disbelieve. Although he wondered if Claude was simply making fun of him, there was one way to know for sure.

Linhardt then met his gaze unblinkingly. “Kiss me,” he said, with a level of confidence that astonished even himself. While they were still somewhat secluded between the large buildings away from the dorms. “And then...escort me back to my room. And there we can part for the night.” He almost felt foolish, but he enjoyed it, even as his hands clenched nervously over the book on his chest.

Claude felt a pang of disappointment at the thought that this...whatever it was, was almost over. He wanted to see that smile light up Linhardt's face again, and hear the little gasp that, he was beginning to learn, meant he'd found a sensation Linhardt liked. Something about that confidence--the way Linhardt's quiet, lilting voice gave the 'commands' as though he really were royalty--was both endearing and alluring. But then again, it wasn't as though either of them was going anywhere anytime soon, they had the rest of the academy year ahead of them. Patience was a virtue after all.

"Whatever you say," he murmured, approaching and cupping Linhardt's face in one palm while he wrapped the other arm around Linhardt's waist, pulling him closer despite the book between them. Considering how this little escapade had started out, the book still keeping them just barely apart was oddly fitting. Regardless, Claude leaned in to deliver the requested kiss, pressing his lips against Linhardt's with renewed vigour.

Pulling Linhardt close confirmed what Claude had suspected earlier; his skin was chilly to the touch. Claude did his best to warm the mage up in his embrace, starting to understand why Linhardt wouldn't have wanted to sleep outdoors at night if he could help it; it seemed he was pretty susceptible to cold. 

Linhardt’s arms relaxed as he leaned into Claude’s warmth again. One of his hands fell from the book and clung to Claude’s sleeve. He did not want the kiss to end, but their current location was far too public for his comfort. It was possible that still that they might be spotted on the way back to the dorms. But he did not mind, especially not now after they were safe back in the monastery. 

Linhardt returned the kiss, leaning in to exploit their minor height difference before reluctantly pulling away. A small smile lingered on his lips as he grabbed Claude’s hand again and started to tug him back towards the dormitory. Claude was still intrigued, viewing Linhardt like a code he had yet to crack. He wasn't sure how long it would take to uncover all the layers and figure Linhardt out completely, but he intended to do it. And it seemed like the process would be entertaining, especially if he kept finding things like Linhardt’s apparent hidden penchant for ordering his dates around.

“And now, it is about time that your liege retires for the night,” Linhardt said, their voice cracking and breaking into a sudden yawn. It was now twice that Claude was so willing to follow Linhardt’s demands. It was still few enough to be a fluke, but perhaps after a third time, he could start to depend on some consistency.

Claude found it baffling that Linhardt could still be tired after all that napping. He put his other hand in his pocket as they walked, feeling both relaxed and refreshed by their little adventure. Claude himself certainly wouldn't be tired anytime soon, after sleeping through most of the afternoon.

As they approached Linhardt's door, Claude stopped walking. "So," he said, "did you think I would forget that you never actually held up your end of the bargain?" He glanced meaningfully at the book Linhardt carried.

Linhardt let out a loud groan; the promise of his bed was now just within reach, and Claude had that now-familiar look of mischief in his eyes. 

“That again?” Linhardt replied, his voice bordering on an exasperated whine. “It’s not exactly _ my _ fault alone that we didn’t get around to finishing this book together.” He scoffed. “I am _ not about _ to let you have it back to just dangle out of my reach again.”

Claude cocked his head a little, resting a hand on one hip. "Linhardt, is that really what you think I meant? And here I was, thinking you were just playing hard to get." 

Linhardt shook their head. “Why would I waste my time playing hard to get, or any such nonsense?” He sighed. “I understand now that you like to dance around things and have your fun. But if you want me to understand something, you’re going to have to be direct about it.”

Claude lifted a hand in defeat. "Message received. I was kidding about the book. Keep it, read it to your heart's content. If you ever _ do _want company reading it, though, I'd love to hear what you have to say on the topic, combined with all our copious research. You're a brilliant guy and you know a lot more than I do about the magic side of things, and I bet if we put our heads together, we can really come up with some juicy theories."

Linhardt’s cheeks warmed at Claude’s accolades, averting his eyes briefly. “I have to say that there is more of yourself that I would like to understand. From what I know so far, I have to agree that our minds together could come up with some staggering breakthroughs.”

Claude then lifted Linhardt's hand in his own, as though to remind them he was holding it. "And, I meant what I said about enjoying myself today. So if you ever want to... _ explore _my secrets again, you know where to find me. " He finally let go of Linhardt's hand to gesture toward the stairs next to Linhardt's room, where his own was just one door down from the top of the stairwell.

“I suppose that I have no choice but to believe you.” Linhardt met Claude’s gaze. “I may even be compelled to seek you out again myself. To dig in and explore those _ secrets _of yours.” His accompanying smile was a little too soft to be a smirk, but still just as warm as the feeling that still lingered on his palm.

  
  
  



	3. Illuminating Mysteries Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And back with another chapter! As before, my co-writer contributed quite a lot with her excellent Claude RP. I did add some additional dialogue scenes but I would in the end be lost without my Claude to bring this story together!

_ 31st of Wyvern Moon, 1180, Gronder field, Adrestia. _

Somehow, even more than before, Linhardt was finding it difficult to even look forward to the mock battle. Not that he had at all in the first place. Battle, violence, and bloodshed in any form was never their strong suit, and so really this was no different. Sure it was a mock battle and no one was (supposed) to die, but there would still be injuries. There would still be accidents. And when weapons are in play, even training ones, lives can still potentially be lost. 

Professor Veles had, thankfully heeded Linhardt’s complaints and allowed him to focus primarily on healing. He did not mind learning Reason magic as well, he found it enthralling. But what he found less appealing was the destruction brought by the lightning flung from his fingertips. One does not easily forget the smell of burning flesh. Far too eerily similar to the smell of a freshly hunted deer roasting on a spit over a fire.

After the long march, the Black Eagles class and their battalions began to set up in the southwest corner of the designated field. After arriving, Edelgard and Veles promptly called all of the officers in training for a strategy meeting. Linhardt stood rather close to the professor’s left, Caspar there with them. While they waited, Linhardt’s gaze was still trained on somewhere distant.

“Linhardt?” A voice pulled them from their daze, turning towards the sound, Linhardt saw that it was, of course, Caspar. Caspar, who was more than enthused about the day’s plans. But looking at him now, that boundless energy seemed to be weighed down by just the slightest hint of concern.

“Mm? What is it, Caspar?”

“Nothing just...you seem a bit distracted. Everything alright?”

Linhardt had to resist the urge to scoff. “Everything is fine I was simply...reminiscing,” Linhardt then turned to look at Caspar. “The last time I was here, it was when I was visiting your family for the summer,”

“Oh!! That’s right!” Caspar grinned. “Yeah, we were what, 9? 10 at the time?”

“I was still 10, but you had just passed your 11th birthday. It was around this time of year, actually.”

“Oh, duh, of course, how could I forget?”

It was a fond memory. This part of the field had permanent battlements for the annual mock battle, but beyond laid many grassy knolls and waves of grain fields. “Your father showed us these battlements back then.”

“Oh yeah, he did. Told us all about how the mock battle went back in his day,” Caspar said with a groan.

“I would think that you’d have been thrilled to hear tales of such exploits.”

“Yeah sure, maybe the first couple times! But you don’t get it. Actually living with the guy? I swear, he told it just about every chance He got. Same with my brother! Totally annoying.”

Linhardt raised an eyebrow. “Well, now, you will have your own story to add to theirs.”

“Damn right I will! And mine will be ten times, no a hundred times cooler than either of theirs!”

“Your Aunt Fleche graduated last year, and there’s also your uncle Randolf to compare to,” Linhardt smirked.

“Linhardt!”

But before Caspar could fully retort, Edelgard called them to attention, drawing their focus back to the professor.

“The battle arrangements are as follows,” Veles began, her eyes focused as she directed the group’s attention to the map she held. “The house positioned in the north is the Blue Lions. They have a river to cross and so on their Fliers can make it over that bridge quickly. Most likely some of the Golden Deer will meet them in battle first,” she said, then pointing to the east. “The Golden Deer has one of the more advantageous starting points, in that their movements are not too restricted by the tress, nor limited by the river. They are a house focused on Archery, and so we would do well not to let them take control of the Ballista in the central mound,”

“We have the best defensive position, here in the southeast, but it means that we could very easily have both forces bearing down on us at once. And so, I want to focus on taking the central defensive mount before we can be cornered.”

While Veles explained, Linhardt let himself see it as a chessboard, predicting all the possible outcomes. Not too many of the paths lead to victory that he saw. Or more, none was any outcome that he liked.

Edelgard nodded, turning her eyes from the map to their professor. “Understood. You can count on us to secure victory today,” something close to a smile teased at the edges of Edelgard’s lips. The kind of expression that Linhardt found most fascinating. 

“Everyone will be participating in this battle, and so I expect everyone to use what they’ve learned to the best of their abilities.”

A chorus of approving cries from their classmates rang out, although Linhardt did not raise his voice. Caspar shoved an excited fist into the air while tugging on Linhardt’s sleeve. 

While everyone bustled about with preparing their weapons and mounts, Linhardt took the map into his hands with Veles’s permission.

In the east, he found another source of his hesitation. Claude, not only was he on the other side of this battle, (however ‘mock’ it may be) he was the Leader, and would almost definitely be leading the strategy along with the class’ own professor. How odd it must be for Veles to be facing her twin across the field, Linhardt wondered. Far worse than what Linhardt was feeling, surely. 

Linhardt felt...strange. Thinking about how the day after their date, Claude had greeted him when they passed by each other between classes. And how in the time since, they had shared several meals together. As it turned out, they had a decent amount of favourite meals in common. When they found each other in the library, Claude would always stop by, and ask permission to sit next to him. Even if more often than not, they read their books in silence together, Linhardt found those times incredibly enjoyable.

But now, Claude was the enemy. And he had the opportunity,(or perhaps...the obligation?) to use what he had learned about Claude in order to get an edge in the battle. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, all the more incentive to do his best to end the battle quickly in whatever way he could.

Veles had a very clear strategy, and Linhardt had no desire to override that, but Veles did assign him to be close at her side, and so he still had ample opportunity to pester her. Especially as the countless possibilities of the battle threatened to overwhelm his mind.

“Professor, with all due respect,” he began as they got into position, all surrounding the pedestal-like mound at the southwest corner. “Securing the ballista from the golden deer is a good move, assuming that the golden deer will make that move at all.”

“Correct. It is possible that the golden deer will anticipate this. And even try to flank us.”

“Yes, that is my primary worry.”

Veles then turned to Linhardt. “You know warp, and your range is very impressive. With you by my side, you can send me to the rearguard to then reverse our formation.”

He blinked. Glancing back at the units and battalions behind him, he quickly saw what she meant. How physical units were positioned on each ends, their supporting battalions also balancing out the magic users in the main body.

“I see. I am at your disposal then, professor,” he said, mildly impressed. Versatility, not just raw strength, that was something he could admire. 

“But Linhardt,” Veles then turned back to him once more. “I may be your teacher but that does not mean that you cannot offer your opinion. Do not hesitate to suggest any strategy you see fit to.”

She turned back away, just as the fanfare for the beginning of the battle started to waft down from the cliffs overlooking the field.

Claude was certainly the type to try and circumvent any obvious maneuvers, and so Linhardt was almost certain that he would go for the flank as soon as the opportunity arose. 

“I know that Bernadetta is our archery specialist. But I think we should keep her towards the rear. We will most likely encounter the Golden Deer first, and they have two very powerful mages that might even best me.” And given his only interactions with them, both of them had ample reason to want to take him out in particular. “We need to have a secure rear flank, if we fall victim to a pincer attack, we will be finished.”

Veles nodded, glancing over the field and back to the eagles. Just as the signal to start began to play, Veles sent Bernadetta and Caspar to the rear and brought Petra to the front, the young huntress being more than capable of operating the ballista when the time came. The vanguard was now the weaker of the two points, but faster and more precise and Linhardt just hoped that it would work. 

Across the field, in the east among the trees, the Golden Deer got into position. Claude stood with their very own Eisner, surveying what the could see of their enemies with one hand shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Say Teach,” Claude broached. “What’s it like? Facing your own twin sister on the battlefield like this?”

Bileth shrugged. “Not much different than in mercenary training,” they replied, their hand movements almost dismissive. 

“Is that so?” Claude lowered his hand from where it had been shielding his eyes from the sun. “I guess you two already faced each other back in Great Tree Moon too, huh,” Claude bit his lip. It was bad enough that all of them, classmates had to face each other in such a grand mock battle. Hearing the history of the battle that once drenched this field in very real blood, it gave the festivities a kind of bitter overtone. Not only were the golden deer left out of the event’s name(due to the unfortunate circumstance of Leicester having not gained independence at the time,) but what was once a bloody battle for freedom was now just the framing for this...test of skill. Why would anyone want to immortalize such an event of strife and division? The reasoning completely mystified Claude, but then again, just about everything about Fodlani culture and especially the religious institution had been giving him trouble since arriving. What was one more straw to add to the pile?

While they stood there, a third approached from the main group, that person being none other than Hilda.

“Say, Claude, I hope you weren’t serious about sending me to capture that hill earlier,”

“Of course not,” Claude said with a grin, turning back to face her. “Instead, you can put on some of that heavy armour and hold up the rear, isn’t that right teach?”

Bileth replied without turning towards them. “This field is too expansive for that. Hilda will be a striker as her Warrior class.”

Despite this assignment being arguably less work, Hilda still let out a groan.

“Come on Claude, there’s gotta be some other scheme of yours that doesn’t hinge on me, right?”

“Not really, since you so emphatically rejected my suggestion of slipping a mild poison into the enemy house’s rations.”

Hilda only replied with an annoyed scoff.

“Still, Teach, you’ve got a battle plan, right?”

“There is a ballista on the central hill that would be quite advantageous for our class’ specialties.”

“Sure, you’ve got a point there, but it’s a totally obvious move. And I am willing to bet that our Adrestian friends will anticipate that move.So I say, we try to pincer them between us and the Blue Lions.”

“Very well,” Bileth then lowers their hands and turns back to join the rest of the class. 

“Wait, that’s it, Teach? Nothing else to add?”

Bileth didn’t respond and kept walking with their back turned, and simply a dismissive wave behind them.

“Huh,” Claude let out a pondering huff, it now just being him and Hilda on the small knoll overlooking the field.

They were silent for a few moments before Hilda was the one that spoke up. “You are really excited about this battle today, huh? What was it you said? This field is full of possibilities?”

“That’s exactly right. It’s all new to me, and I bet the Adrestians know the place better than me, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t take advantage where I can.”

“Huh. That is something that I totally don’t get. Working hard even in the face of looming defeat. Sounds dreadful.”

“Looming defeat? Come now, Hilda, there is no need to despair! I, the brilliant tactician Claude will surely lead us to victory,”

Hilda turns to Claude with a slight grimace. “I’m not talking about _ you _ , Claude. But, there are _ twice _as many of them as they are of us! What’s to keep it from just being a repeat of the first mock battle with everyone just getting exhausted and giving up?”

“There’s no way that will happen, Hilda. Just take a look at the field,” Claude says, stepping behind her and placing one hand on her shoulder, the other hand pointing out across the field. “This field is huge. There is more than enough time for one army to eliminate the other before the Lions even reach us.”

“So either the Eagles defeat us, or we defeat them. And even after that we still have the whole Lions class to fend off,” Hilda let out an annoyed scoff. “Well, maybe the Eagles will just beat us and then I can retreat and take a nice nap,” she said with an exaggerated yawn, all the while subtly leaning into Claude’s touch.

Claude definitely notices this and places his other hand on her shoulder, testing the waters. “Trust me. I have a plan, I won’t let the eagles take us by surprise, you mark my words.”

“Oh? You sound so_ confident, _” Hilda turns and gives Claude a wide smile. 

“The Eagles may have an ace up their sleeve, but we have one of our own,” Claude said with a smirk.

  
  


About a week before the mock battle, Claude had found Linhardt in the Library, as was not uncommon. Linhardt was set up at the table in the corner, face down on an open book open, dead asleep.

Claude gave a small smirk, striding over and sitting down next to Linhardt on the bench. Linhardt did not like surprises, and being woken up forcibly just had to be out of the question. And so Claude instead opted to sit there quietly and read. Maybe the mage would wake up, maybe they wouldn’t, Claude found that it didn’t much matter. Sure, Claude would prefer to speak with Linhardt, with how fascinating Claude found them. But this was enjoyable as well.

After a short while, Linhardt began to stir, making a series of soft noises that Claude had come to be rather fond of. Linhardt was always adorable, but it was moments like these that were particularly endearing.

Linhardt squinted against the light and then their deep blue gaze finally fell on Claude. It seemed to take a few moments for Linhardt to register what he was seeing, but Claude was patient. 

“Good morning, O, Sovereign of the Dreamworld,” Claude said with a rather affectionate smile. “Did you sleep well?”

Linhardt wrinkled their nose while rubbing the sleep from their eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“By now I would think that you’d be used to me, making pilgrimage to the Library as to visit my _ liege _.”

Linhardt shook their head. “No I mean,” Linhardt’s lips turned down into a frown. “You usually sit _ across _ from me, and not _ next _to me.”

“Is that a problem? I will gladly change my see if you so desire~”

“No, it’s just...different, and I noticed,” Linhardt then turned back in the direction of their books, but did not touch or look at them directly.

Claude took that moment to ponder Linhardt’s behaviour, a small grin starting to play on his lips. “Well, don’t let me disrupt you. I am here to read, and possibly nap just the same as you.”

Linhardt didn’t respond, still staring down at the books but now less intently. Linhardt looked almost distracted.

“So, what sort of books caught you interest on this fine day?” Claude asked, leaning over to peek at the tome. “Oh, practical platoon tactics. Could it be that your schoolwork finally caught your interest?”

Linhardt shrugged. “You do know what’s happening in a week.”

“I do in fact,” Claude nodded, not pulling back from his closer position to Linhardt. “I wasn’t expecting you to be quite so interested.”

“Well, the professor has been asking me to help with tactics,” Linhardt said. “And well, I find it more appealing than actually being on the field and fighting, it turns out.”

“I can totally see that. Let me guess, this is like one of the puzzles that you like so much.”

“In a way, yes,” Linhardt said, long fingers tracing over a map of Gronder Field’s mock battle area to the right of the tome. “Terrain and enemy troops conspire together to make a puzzle that must be deciphered.”

“That is a fascinating way to look at it,” Claude said, leaning a cheek into his hand.

Linhardt again didn’t respond. 

“You know, I’ve been looking into the same things. It seems like the next mock battle will put our brilliant minds to the test.”

Linhardt still didn’t respond.

Claude frowned slightly but did not push the conversation further. Instead, Claude pulled back and opened his own book. Perhaps Linhardt was grumpy from just waking up? Again, that was likely, but by now Claude knew to suspect something else. But, it would do no good to try and pry it out of Linhardt. 

Claude went ahead and dove into his own book of tactics that he had procured, leaning back and paging through the tome at a leisurely pace. Linhardt, however, did not return to reading for themself. Instead, out of the corner of his eye, Claude saw Linhardt get closer, and turning to look, Linhardt had leaned his head onto Claude’s shoulder.

A flash of heat went to Claude’s face, but he remained composed. This wasn’t that weird, right? Linhardt was probably sleepy. And there was no one else in the Library anyway. Regardless, Claude found himself all but completely unable to focus on the book in front of him, instead, looping an arm around Linhardt’s shoulders. Claude did not have a witty reply, and that was probably for the best. In all honesty, he did not want to risk ruining this moment. 

It stung a little bit, remembering the gentle Linhardt that Claude had spent that day in the library with, but Claude couldn't very well disappoint now. Edelgard, while not much the tactician herself was still the wildcard that Claude could not hope to easily predict, but he knew that the last thing she would do, would be to relent.

The trumpet sounded, and the three armies let out their chants for victory before it became a mad rush towards the centre all at once. After that, Linhardt let his mind fade out, simply healing his allies at every given opportunity, staying close to Veles and even handing out potions. 

But his mind then snapped into complete and utter focus when he spotted from the east, the mass of yellow uniforms, making a clear move to the south to their flank. 

“Professor—” Linhardt yelled before she turned around, and then with a nod, Linhardt promptly warped her to the rear of their formation, taking the stronger rearguard to meet the alliance head-on.

Linhardt was now left just with Petra and their Battalions, and for a moment, he did not know what to do, until he found themself being dragged by the wrist by Petra.

“Do not be fearing, Linhardt. I will protect you, while we go for the ballista.”

Linhardt’s mind then went blank again, but for entirely different reasons. A bit of panic, a lot of bewilderment, but most of all, a thousand new possible outcomes sprouted in his mind at the addition of this new variable. And he found that he didn’t half mind that things were now just getting to be properly interesting. 

So far, so good. As they started to hit bow range from the Eagles and spotted Veles warping to the front lines, Teach gave the order to split up--archers and Marianne to cover behind the ramparts and trees, Lysithea and Flayn toward the front with their sturdier protectors to distract and sow chaos, Leonie and Lorenz ahorse with their mounted battalions for hit and run shenanigans to draw fire. Crouched beside Marianne behind a tree and searching for clear targets, he spotted something better--Petra and Linhardt dashing out into the open, running for the ballista. "Marianne--now!" He nocked an arrow even as she nodded and began to cast her spell. By the time he had Petra properly in his sights, her magic blossomed out to silence Linhardt's. If it worked, he wouldn't be able to warp Petra or himself out of the center, and they would be easy pickings for him and Ignatz.

“Petra!” Linhardt exclaimed, having to run after her to stay out of the bulk of harm’s way. Just as they crested the ballista mound and Petra began to set herself up, Linhardt felt the buzzing of magic in his veins suddenly go quiet, the sensation of ice-cold chain’s wrapping around him, almost stumbling to the ground. When he opened his mouth, no sound came out.

He made a few panicked motions to Petra. Pointing in the direction of the golden deer mage as he scrambled frantically back to his feet. Petra moved to tend to him but he just pointed again towards the alliance vanguard, signalling for her to target the mage to their south. He gasped, pulling out his Levin Sword reluctantly and using it to steady himself until he could speak again.

Of course, Claude would aim straight for Linhardt. Claude knew what they were capable of. It was only a short while, Marianne likely didn’t have the stamina yet to pull out too many uses of Silence, but it was still a huge nuisance. 

From the north, the Blue Lions were steadily approaching from across the river. He and Petra would be soon overcome. But he knew that Veles was still executing her plan, and would likely cut through the Deer’s rearguard with Hubert, Ferdinand and Dorothea. 

As soon as he saw Linhardt react to the Silence, he gave the signal and loosed his own arrow at Petra, hitting his mark. Ignatz fired on Linhardt at almost the same time. Ingrid's approaching pegasus battalion suffered the Deer's barrage, too, unable to effectively bypass it with the archers spread out the way they were, while the Eisner twins and their entourages clashed; by the time the rest of the Lions arrived, Veles had cut through the Deer's rearguard, Bileth and Claude had pulled their remaining forces back into the trees to regroup, and the Deer's harrier tactics with Lysithea and the cavalry had decimated the Eagles' van. It didn't take much longer for Dimitri's forces to mop up the rest, turning the whole thing into a Blue Lions victory.

Claude hated losing, but at least Edelgard had lost too.

The battle of the Eagle and Lion of 1180 was at an end. The Blue Lions emerged victorious. But somehow, the mood was light, and the mood rich with camaraderie. It had, after all, been just a mock battle. A display of skill, about among friends. But crouched over Petra’s very real wound from Claude’s arrow, his own wound being mended with a Vulnerary only after he had ceded his surrender.

The dining hall at Garreg Mach Monastery, after the return of the students, now scarcely has ever been more lively. Students from all three classes crowd the tables, sharing in the dining hall’s special that night. It was certainly something to behold. Students who had all been clashing in battle the moment before, now sharing in such jollity.

Linhardt, despite how pleased he was to be done of the battle, was nowhere near being able to stand much more of the clamour of voices. Instead, he waited his turn in line and made a swift exit to go and eat his food in the outdoor eating area under one of the gazebos.

Much quieter, much better. Nothing left to grate on his nerves, just the soothing smell and taste of the pheasant roast with berry sauce that he happened to favour. After leaving, he was able to process what he had seen inside. Caspar had been sitting rather happily with Ashe, and Claude was busy congratulating his housemates by the look of it. 

Lin had done his part in the battle, and now he would get his reward.

Claude, as one of the three house leaders, put a lot of emphasis on maintaining amicable relations with the other two house leaders. And this banquet was no exception. At the far table sat Dimitri, despite the well-won victory, his shoulders were slouched, and as usual, the rather lanky prince appeared to be making as little of a spectacle of himself as possible. One of the many interesting things that Claude tucked away in his mind when approaching him.

“Congratulations on the clutch victory, your Princliness,” Claude said, grabbing Dimitri’s attention with a small start.

“Ah, Claude!” Dimitri’s face went from surprised to a quickly composed smile. “I thank you. But yours and Edelgard’s performance on the battlefield was nothing to scoff at,”

“You’re right about that, if there is ever a rematch, mark my words, the Deer won’t go down so easily.”

A third figure then approached from behind, Claude sensed it and turned before Dimitri even seemed to know. And doing so, he saw none other than Edelgard herself.

“I agree with Dimitri, but I have to say that your formation almost seemed...preoccupied with taking out us Eagles first. Interesting, to say the least. I hadn’t been aware that you and I had developed any sort of rivalry.” Edelgard’s expression was impassive, but Claude detected a particular knowing glint in her eye. The kind of stare that made the hair on the back of his neck prickle just a little. 

“I could say the same for you guys. Going for the ballista right off the bat? That was basically an open invitation for the Deer,” he grinned. “Well, Teach and their sister don’t seem to have a particular sibling rivalry, so I felt a little bad. But, in the end, we just set the stage for the Lions to completely wipe us out,” Claude rounded his grin on Dimitri, Edelgard’s gaze also sliding to him. The attention appeared to make the composure on Dimitri’s face flickered for a moment. 

Dimitri then replied in a mild stuttering tone.“Oh no, it was really all the students and the guidance of our own professors that--”

In the middle of Dimitri’s floundering, a loud voice suddenly sprung up from among the Lions’ table. Caspar, one of the Eagles as Claude understood it had stood up with a tankard in one hand, and one foot on the table. “Come on! Let's hear a toast, to ASHE for totally annihilating me with a million-to-one shot!!”

By Caspar’s side, the aforementioned Ashe seemed a bit flustered and at a loss at how to calm him down. “Caspar! That’s not--” But Caspar ignored him and chugged the tankard loudly.

Claude let out an amused scoff, glancing at Edelgard. “Well, glad to see that your Eagles aren’t all taking the defeat too hard,”

Edelgard nodded. “Indeed.”

The imperial princess was always a mystery to him, seeming cold and detached, but here she was, doing her best to be with her classmates even in the wake of a crushing defeat. Claude could appreciate that, but something tugged at the back of his mind.

“I poked fun at your strategy, but I was really quite impressed,” Claude continued, noticing that out of the corner of his eye, Dimitri’s attention had since been pulled away by one of his childhood friends, leaving Edelgard and Claude talking to one another. “That mage of yours, was really the lynchpin in your strategy, huh?”

Edelgard who had been keeping a bit of a watchful eye on Caspar and his antics, then trained her eyes back on Claude. “You mean Linhardt?” It could have been Claude’s imagination, but he could swear that a minuscule smile began to play on her lips at the mention of their name. “Yes, Linhardt is a very promising student in....their own way,” that small smile chilled ever so slightly. “The professor usually keeps them close at hand to help with her strategies.”

“I see,” Claude replied. “The black eagles sure are an interesting bunch. An imperial princess, a budding strategist and—” he gestures to Caspar who has now somehow landed himself in a headlock from Raphael. “This charming young fellow.”

“Yes, the Eagles are a quite...varied bunch this year. However, I am pleased to find that, we are starting to find a way to work together.”

Her statement was somewhat vague, something that seemed out of Character for the princess. Claude kept his gaze trained on her, watching how her eyes went distant for a moment. “Well, it’s a shame, all the same. The Eagles and Deer got so caught up with each other that we let the Lions walk all over us,” he said with a shrug. “So, what do you say? Next time we have one of these mock battles, how about we team up and just split the reward?” Claude said with a wink.

Edelgard then turned back to Claude once again. “Unfortunately, there is only ever one winner crowned in these sorts of mock battles. Although I do not find the offer uninteresting.”

Claude let out a scoff. “Come on, who cares about the stuffy academy rules or tradition? With the two of us? Next emperor and next Archduke? We could totally just make a whole new precedent for ourselves,”

Edelgard’s expression was measured. “We will see about that.”

Edelgard then left him with a polite nod, returning to her classmates, leaving Claude to himself for the moment. He then took that moment to look around. Huh. Now that they had mentioned it, Linhardt was in fact nowhere to be found. It then occurred to Claude that Linhardt might have simply skipped the feast entirely. If so that would be quite disappointing. Not many others had the same kind of Analytic mind that Linhardt had. Claude wanted nothing more than to be able to pick apart the day’s strategy and compare notes with them.

Caspar was always with Linhardt, wasn’t he? But Caspar seemed to be more than just a little bit occupied at the moment. Plus, Claude didn’t really have any easily excusable reason to want to seek out Linhardt anyway. And given Linhardt’s general attitudes, it seemed best not to advertise how close they had gotten. 

Claude then took a look around. Peering out the southern dining hall doors, and then walking out the northern side and into the hedges. There is where he spotted a solitary figure sitting at one of the outdoor tables with a plate of the main course.

"There you are, Linhardt," he said, walking closer with his hands behind his head. "What are you up to out here all by yourself? Plotting revenge on the Lions already?"

At the sound of Claude’s voice, Linhardt looked up from their food eyes quickly focusing on Claude, silhouetted in the evening sun.

“I was...eating my roast pheasant in peace,” he said with a small pout. “At least I _ was, _” they tried to make their voice sound teasing, but he was a bit too worn down for that. Linhardt instead set his fork down and then pulled back the chair next to them. Linhardt then leaned his chin on one hand and gestured to the empty chair. “Sit if you want to. I had a feeling you would want to speak with me.” And in truth, Linhardt wanted very much to speak with Claude as well.

"Hey, I'm plenty peaceful." Claude sat next to Linhardt, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. Taking a closer look at Linhardt, Claude saw that the mage seemed somehow more tired than usual. While that was nothing new—it was different this time. Linhardt was drained, not merely sleepy."What made you think I would want to speak with you? Not that I don't, I'm just curious as to why you say that."

Linhardt merely blinked under Claude’s steady gaze, watching the lantern light dance over his face and sparkle in his eyes. “You seemed pretty determined to outmatch me, is all,” they said, fingers flexing and fluttering where they rested on the table in front of him. “Unless you really thought that just Petra and I _ alone _on the ballista was really that much of a threat,” he said with a minute quirk of his lips. “Maybe you had a reason to target me specifically that I was unaware of.”

"You mean aside from warping people all over the battlefield and gaining control of the ballista?" Claude arches an eyebrow. "Seems like plenty to me. Sometimes, one individual can make or break an entire strategy. For instance, that little stunt you pulled switching your rear guard with your van required you. If we'd been able to take you out immediately, your professor would have been in a much weaker position, and that battle might have gone completely differently."

Claude was right. The plan required Linhardt. Even if Veles had come up with that particular plan, Linhardt had been necessary to hone it into a fine effective point. “That is true. That plus your terror of a dark mage would have made your flank attack a sure-fire success,” he replied, unable to dismiss the facts of his statement. 

Claude chuckles. "I'll have to tell Lysithea she's become a _ terror_. I'm sure she'll be pleased to hear it."

“If it had been just the eagles vs. the deer, perhaps we could have been victorious,” he smirked. “But, it seemed like we both got taken off guard by our friends in the north. All the better, it meant I got to retreat before the battle was even over,” he rested a cheek on his hand, gazing back at Claude.

Claude sits back. "But you were right—I did want to talk to you. It seems like you didn't enjoy the battle much,” Linhardt presses their lips together. Claude had become quite perceptive to Linhardt it seemed. That idea, like many other things between them, both pleased and concerned him. 

“I just don’t like fighting,” Linhardt said with a frown. 

“But wasn't it at least fascinating to pit our tactics against each other? I thought so, anyway."

Linhardt sighed. “Especially in a situation like that, it would have been more beneficial if our strategies could have worked in tandem. But alas. The tradition of the academy dictated our fate that day. And we both drink from the bitter cup of defeat,” they said, idly walking their fingers along the edge of the table in front of Claude as he spoke.

Claude’s eyes were drawn to Linhardt's not-so-idle movements, long fingers making their way around the table. Claude realized that the two of them hadn't really been really truly alone together since the night they broke curfew and was willing to bet Linhardt was having the same thought.

Linhardt continued. “If you want to test our tactics, we could always just play a round of chess instead. Much less messy.”

As Linhardt's eyes came up, Claude brought his own up to meet them, his face brightening. "I didn't know you liked chess. Look at that—yet _another _thing we have in common. What are the odds? " He reached over to lace his fingers together with Linhardt's on the table, looking at their entwined hands as though they were a curiosity to be fathomed.

Linhardt smiles, pleased that Claude had taken the open invitation. They were suitably isolated as for Linhardt to be comfortable enough to indulge in the closeness he had been wanting since that first encounter. 

“At this point, it shouldn’t be surprising that we share more things in common. But that is nice to hear. I am always searching for a worthy opponent,” he said, fluttering his fingertips along the back of Claude’s hand. “Believe me. I will enjoy myself far more when I don’t have to wrench one of your arrows out of my arm,” Linhardt said, leaning his face a little closer and giving Claude a small irritated sort of snarl. 

"Hey, that wasn't me, that was Ignatz. I _ am _to blame for Petra's arrow, though.”

“Well, regardless. I would prefer a _ clash of wits _between us where no one's arrow gets lodged in my arm.”

Claude just stared back at Linhardt. “Has anyone ever told you you're cute when you scowl?"

Linhardt scoffs, eyes darting to Claude’s lips as he moved even closer. “Oh, _ only _when I scowl? What an unfortunate state for this face of mine, then,” they say, voice rich with sarcasm, hoping to distract from the pink tinge of their cheeks.

"I didn't say that. You're also cute when you blush. Like you're doing now."

Linhardt’s scowl deepens, and the blush certainly does as well. They hadn’t had an opportunity to kiss since that night after curfew, and Lin was finding themself leaning towards that urge again. 

But then, much like their last meeting at the library, the sudden sound of voices from behind them caused Linhardt to pull back. A small group of students were leaving the dining hall, some of them possibly even heading in their direction.

Claude glanced back at the noise, seeming unconcerned. For a moment, he thought it was an odd thing for Linhardt to be concerned about—after all, they'd been the one to demand Claude kiss him out in the open—but he'd also expressed discomfort with the idea of anyone seeing them emerge from the secret passage together. Curious.

"Looking for a little more privacy? I know a place." Claude stood, stretching a bit. Today's battle was hard-fought, if unfortunately not hard-won; and at least he learned a lot about his fellow house leaders' strategies and the capabilities of their classes. Next time, he'd have a better idea of how to handle them.

Linhardt stands up with Claude, nodding. “Yes, more privacy would be ideal.”

Even though their second kiss had been out in the open, it had been the middle of the night, late after curfew. And additionally, Linhardt had been more than a little caught up in the fact that Claude seemed so willing to bend to Linhardt’s whims. 

“Oh? What sort of place do you have in mind?” Linhardt steps closer to Claude and glances in his direction.

"You'll see," Claude said, placing an extending index finger over his grinning lips. Linhardt almost frowns but feels the urge to dissipate when meeting Claude’s gaze. Claude then leads the way, toward the eastern side of the monastery grounds, away from the dining hall. It's a few minutes' walk, during which he glances sidelong at Linhardt, strolling with his fingers laced together behind his head. "Care to guess where we're going?"

“I haven’t the faintest clue,” they said, eyelids drooping in mild exasperation. “But you clearly seem to think that I will enjoy whatever you have in mind.”

"Well, I can at least promise that it isn't a hole in the ground," Claude said with a wink.

Eventually, they come to a disused tower with a sniper's nest perched atop it, abandoned as the monastery expanded around it. Claude pushes open the door and gesture, with a little bow. "After you."

As they come to a stop Linhardt glances from Claude to the indicated tower. “Indeed I believe this is...the exact opposite of a hole in the ground,” they reply with a small smirk at the corner of their lips. Linhardt walks ahead of Claude and begins up the spiral staircase. “Now, is it being a place above ground the only reason you thought I’d like it?”

"Not exactly, but I'll let you see why for yourself when you get to the top." He follows Linhardt up. "It's also just a place I like to visit by myself when I want some solitude."

Linhardt takes that in, the fact that Claude was willing to show him a place he usually went for solitude...the meaning of that gesture was not lost on him. His cheeks even tinted pink.

When they reach the top of the tower, Linhardt lets out a small gasp and stands there still just beyond the mouth of the stairs, gazing out at the deepening evening sky, the first stars just starting to become visible.

Claude grins, seeing the look on Linhardt's face, and moves out to the edge to lean against the stone parapet, breathing in the cool evening air. "Well? Does it pass muster?"

Linhardt walks over to join Claude at the parapet, their face rather serene. “Yes, it most certainly does,” Linhardt let out a long sigh of relief, comfortably letting themself droop towards Claude’s warmth.

"Good. Because, if I'm not mistaken, there was a reason you wanted to find someplace private. Of course, I could be wrong—and if so, by all means, don't let me keep you." He glances over with a smirk.

“Ever so observant,” Linhardt replied, his tone dry. “I do wonder what gave myself away,” said with just a hint of bemused sarcasm. Linhardt angled their body towards Claude, eyes drifting down to his lips. “Just allow me to get back into the ‘mood’ as it were,” Lin said, close to feeling relaxed again, the same spark from earlier bubbling back up.

Claude, however, steps back suddenly and pivots, separating them for a moment to put his back to the parapet. “Now, I have to admit, I had a selfish reason for choosing this place, too,” he grins, with his back to the sunset, the deep orange hues instead cover Linhardt, illuminating their skin and causing those eyes to sparkle. “Because now I’m the one who gets to see you all decked out in the sunset’s light like this.”

Linhardt was annoyed for a moment when Claude pulled away, but their cheeks tinge pink when it sinks in. But Linhardt’s embarrassment doesn’t take hold when he sees Claude leaning against the parapet, all but daring Lin to come and get that kiss they so obviously wanted.

“Then I suppose we both have our selfish reasons,” Lin replies, their voice dipping in pitch as they stride over to stand directly in front of Claude, their bodies still several inches apart. Lin places one hand on the parapet behind Claude and stares down at him. “And now I am the only one who gets to see you like this,” Linhardt replies with a smirk.

Claude’s smile is satisfied, pleased when he sees that flush grace Linhardt’s cheeks again. But turnabout does indeed seem to be fair play, as Linhardt abruptly takes the reins of the situation, and Claude has to admit to himself that Linhardt’s words are strangely enticing. He remembers lying on his back in the grass and watching those blue eyes above him take him in, for a longer moment than he would have expected. Huh. Interesting.

“Hmm…looks like I’ve really miscalculated, huh? I guess I’m at your mercy. Whatever shall I do?” He meets Linhardt’s stare with an impish look.

Lin feels another odd surge, of something almost like confidence. The challenge in Claude’s gaze, and the admission in his words. This was now the chance to test whether Claude’s submission was just a game after all. 

Linhardt steps his opposite leg past Claude, taking hold of Claude’s chin. “You have made a grave error, letting your guard down because of my appearance? How foolish,” their cheeks were still red as Linhardt then finally began to close the distance between their lips, his own heart starting to pound. “And now I have no intention of letting you escape,” Linhardt whispered before Capturing Claude’s lips as well.

Claude grins to see Linhardt playing along, letting the mage hold him in place and wax imperious even as they're blushing over it. As their lips meet, he's struck again by how soft Linhardt is, as he slips his arms around their waist and pulls them closer.

Linhardt loses a bit of their commanding edge when finally tasting Claude’s lips again. The slight nervous tension melts away and Linhardt presses Claude back against the stone surface. 

Linhardt places one hand in Claude’s hair, the other resting against his back. Linhardt indulges for a moment, feeling how Claude’s muscular arms rested so gently around their waist, Linhardt’s whims meeting no resistance. 

Claude’s grin doesn’t disappear. It is endlessly fascinating, seeing such a firm character emerge from Linhardt’s docile exterior. It makes Claude wonder whatever made Linhardt act that way. We’re they always so meek? Or had they been more willful and demanding as a child and then something happened to change that? As always, the mysteries just pulled Claude even further towards wanting those answers.

Claude must have been so lost in thought that his lips had gone slack because he was suddenly jerked back down to earth by Lin’s hand tightening and tugging firmly on Claude’s hair. Claude let out a low grunt that quickly became a moan when Linhardt’s tongue teased past Claude’s lips, those slender fingers that Claude could just picture in his mind, at the moment, they had Claude at their complete mercy. Claude’s hands simply dug into the fabric of Linhardt’s uniform, urging Linhardt onward while still leaving all the control in Linhardt’s hands. 

After a time, when they finally come up for air, Claude glances up at the sky. "It'll be dark soon--we should probably head back. Besides, Teach wanted to catch up with me after the feast to debrief after the battle."

Linhardt pulls away, reluctantly, but Claude is right. The stars are beautiful, but they best be heading back. “I suppose my professor will wanting to do the same as well,” they reply, pushing back from the parapet, eyes falling back to Claude. “And I meant it earlier. The next time our strategies clash, I would much rather it be over a chessboard than on a battlefield. So consider that an open challenge invitational,”

"You're on. Next time, Linhardt, we engage in a battle of wits."

Linhardt smiles, gently lacing their fingers together again.


	4. Enduring Trepidation Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit sloppy, and i hope to edit it and have the next chapters polished, but I wanted to get my momentum rolling again. Things will soon be starting to kick off so please look forward to it!

_ 7th of Red Wolf Moon, 1180 _

Another summons to the audience chamber, as it was every moon. Veles found her brother, and the two of them made their way to Rhea’s presence, together, as they always did.

Rhea and Seteth stood there waiting for the twin professors, a pleasant smile and a stern look on each of their faces. The Eisner twins regarded the two of them with a polite nod before waiting for the by now customary greeting.

“Professors Eisner,” Rhea began warmly. “I must commend you on your valiant efforts in the battle of the Eagle and Lion. In the end, it matters not who emerges victorious in these affairs, but instead that the students gain valuable experience that will aid them in their paths in life.“

The Eisners did not have a particular reaction to this statement, but the scowl on Seteth’s face spoke volumes. 

Rhea instead chose to continue. “However, your assignment this month is not one for which failure will be permitted, as I am sure you will soon understand. In a similar manner to previous months, this is a very important task to the Monastery and also to the church of Seiros.”

Seteth nodded and took that moment to step in. “Garreg Mach Monastery is hosting a very important guest this moon, and you would do well to show our visitors the proper deference and respect.”

Rhea nods. “Which I have no doubt you and your students will be able to accomplish without issue.”

After a short pause, the elder Eisner spoke up. “And who exactly are these guests?”

Seteth replied. “You are by no doubt aware of the recent issues with the Western Church. The Blue Lions class, as well as our own Ser Gilbert have been sent into Faerghus to see about the selection of a new Bishop to lead the church in that region.”

Rhea continued. “However, it also happens that our friends in the Eastern church have also seen fit to select new leadership for their sect. Their previous Bishop has stepped down, and they have selected a replacement from within their ranks.”

“Who are they?” The younger Eisner asks.

“They are Sister Luzia. A highly ranked priest who once lived and worked here at Garreg Mach, one that I consider to be one of my dear children. She was once a noble, but tragedy led her to take up a life of service in the church, and she has be rewarded for her piety and devotion with a position in the Eastern Church, and now will step up to lead them.”

Veles nods. “She sounds like a fascinating person.”

“She will be present for the month of Red Wolf Moon, and so I am sure you will have more than enough time to become properly acquainted.”

Bileth replies. “Then, what is to be our mission?”

Rhea nods. “At the end of the moon, there will be a ceremony, at the old chapel on the outskirts of the Monastery. Luzia had a fondness for that place in her youth, and wishes to restore it and use it for the place of her ascension to the role of Bishop of the Eastern Church.”

Seteth’s face has become now rather pensive. “Given that the last major church function garnered _ unwanted _ attention, we are enlisting both of your classes to assist in the security of the monastery, and we would like the two of you to select a small group of your best fighters to help guard Sister Luzia at the ceremony proper.”

“There are no requirements for the selection, other than we would like both of your house leaders to be with you at the ceremony. It will be important for them, Claude especially, as he will no doubt have particularly close dealings with the Bishop once he takes his place as the Archduke.”

Veles gives a slightly ponderous expression. “But what about Edelgard?”

Seteth now frowns once again. “You may not be aware that relations between the church and the Empire have been, fraught to say the least in the last 100 years. One of our hopes with Edelgard’s attendance at this academy as the first Hresvelg in 9 years, those tensions can be eased during her future reign.”

The politics of the nations had always been beyond the Eisners, but Veles could not quite shake the uneasy feeling it granted her.

Rhea’s smile however remains unwavering. “If you feel unprepared to handle the political nuances, I encourage you to listen to your students and others from the regions, many of the citizens of the empire still hold ties to the church, despite the recent tensions.”

This seemed reasonable enough, at least to the twin professors. 

“Sister Luzia will be seeing to her own preparations this moon. When the time comes, I expect nothing less than the most satisfactory results.”

The twins nod and depart as they are dismissed. Together they both leave the main building, walking in close lock-step as they often do when they are together.

Bileth’s eyes are locked on the ground, seeming to be deep in thought. Veles, noticing this, nudges her twin and gets his attention with some quick signs. 

“Is something bothering you?”

Bileth shakes their head. “It doesn’t make sense. I know we don’t know much about the church, but, why is the eastern church in trouble too?” he turns to look at her. “When we went with Alois to help them, he didn’t mention anything about this, right?”

Veles nods. “Only that the Eastern Church has no military of its own, and so asks the central church for help.”

“A church having a military is still difficult for me to understand.”

“I feel the same way,” Veles replies as the two of them arrive at the Officer’s academy classrooms. The students are milling about, and a few catches sight of them and waves to the twin professors. Before departing, Veles takes hold of her brother’s hand briefly. “Well, really, I am most happy that we are working together this moon,”

Bileth nods, a small rare smile spreading across his lips. “Me too, sister.”

At that moment, a figure approaches from the golden deer classroom, and Veles departs towards her own classroom. 

“Hey Teach!” Veles can hear Claude greet his professor as she took enters the room two doors down, her own students greeting her in kind.

The Black Eagles are all assembled. This day isn’t a regular instruction day, per se, but is the day when this month’s mission is assigned. The students, after this morning homeroom are then free to spend the day as they please.

“Professor!” Edelgard turns to greet Veles, several of the more studious class members already quieting down at her arrival. “I see your briefing from the Archbishop has concluded,” 

Veles nods, her expression softening slightly. “Indeed it has.” She calls for attention, and the members of her class assemble around her as she relays the mission’s details.

Ferdinand, standing a few paces away to her left listens with wrapt attention, his brows furrowing slightly. “The new Bishop of the Eastern Church? I suppose there is worry of another attack, but I was under the impression that the western Church dissidents were all but eradicated?”

Dorothea chimes in. “And the Blue Lions are being sent to the Kingdom itself? I hope Ingrid and the others don’t end up caught up in too much fighting like last time.” It had been he Blue Lions who had dealt with Lonato’s uprising, as well as Miklan’s theft. And once again they were being sent to deal with the troubles in their homeland.

Ferdinand glances towards her with a look of concern. “There is no need to worry, Dorothea. They are to be accompanied by the most skilled Knights available. They are not going to quell a rebellion the time and so I am sure there will be no casualties.”

Dorothea, however, doesn’t seem convinced. To her, the large company of knights is the most worrying. 

“I am still not knowing much of Fódlans religions,” Petra adds. “But it is having almost as much excitement as the nations. It is like the Seiros church is one big nation, that covers the three lands of Fódlan with its massive wings.”

Edelgard’s face changes minutely at this comment. “Indeed, the Church is something that spreads throughout all of Fódlan.”

“It’s more like roots of a tree I think,” Linhardt says. “Or like the underground tendrils of a massive fungal colony.”

Caspar scratches his head. “You're saying the church of seiros is like…a Giant mushroom?”

“Yes. Precisely, that is exactly what I mean,” Linhardt replies, his eyes lidded in heavy sarcasm.

“Well,” Ferdinand continues. “I for one, am eager to meet Sister Luzia. She is well revered, and it is said that she even bears a major crest.”

Linhardt’s demeanour suddenly changes and his attention is fully focused on Ferdinand to the point that the young noble starts and jerks away. “A major crest? Do you have any idea who?”

“Ah, I am sorry Linhardt I do not—”

Hubert then clears his throat. “Her crest happens to be that of Saint Cethleann.”

Linhardt’s eyes then all but shine with a bright light as he is suddenly more enthused than anyone in the room has ever seen him. “Professor! You said that certain students will be picked to accompany her, right?”

Veles nods, the only one in the room seemingly unphased by Linhardt's intensity. “Yes but, that decision does not lie with me alone, Edelgard will be choosing as well.”

Linhardt then all but completely deflates.

“Yes, I will be selecting from whoever displays the best improvement and effort in their studies,” Edelgard says, very carefully. “However, as the Professor stated, Sister Luzia will be here for the duration of this Moon. there is nothing keeping you from meeting with her on your own. However, as a member of this class, I will insist that you restrain yourself.”

Linhardt groans. “I don’t just want to speak with her. I want to see her in action, I’ve never seen a major crest of Cethleann in use before.”

Edelgard raises an eyebrow. “What makes you think you will see it in action if you attend the ceremony?”

Linhardt shrugs. “The only reason we are being asked to protect her is that the Archbishop fears an assassination attempt, right? Given what happened last moon, well.”

The other students around him do not appear amused. 

“Linhardt…” Ferdinand says. “Are you saying that you are…hoping the Bishop will be attacked?”

“I wouldn’t put it like that.”

Dorothea frowns. “Lin, you could just, go to her and ask for a demonstration of her faith magic.”

Linhardt places a hand to his chin in thought. “That is an option…”

Edelgard clears her throat. “Regardless, our focus, this Moon will be preparing, and anyone who wishes to speak with the bishop and her delegation are encouraged to do so.”

Two rooms down, the deer too are finishing their briefing, surrounding their professor and considering the events now on the precipice of coming to fruition.

Claude stands close at Bileth’s side, while Lorenz stands a fair distance away with their classmates also close at hand. 

“While I am looking forward to this next mission as much as any, I must confess that I am a bit confused as to this development.”

“Oh? Has the all-mighty Lorenz countered something beyond his infinite wisdom?” Claude teases.

Lorenz frowns and shakes his head. “Quite the opposite. I keep up with all of the political developments in Leicester to the best of my ability. And frankly, the Current, well--previous Bishop was in perfectly fine health the last that I heard.”

Lysithea presses her lips together. “The western church has been rebellious, but the Eastern Church almost never makes any sort of trouble. They do not even have a standing army, as far as I know.”

Lorenz nods. “Precisely, Lysithea. And additionally, the Archbishop appears worried that there will be unrest or targeting of this ceremony.”

Ignatz’s brows crease in worry. “I do hope that nothing goes wrong. I am honestly thrilled to have the chance to witness the christening of a new Bishop. Do you think we will even get to meet her?”

Leonie crosses her arms. “I mean, only a select few will be going on the mission, but she’s here all month so you can just go meet her if you’re that eager too.”

Ignatz’s cheeks flush in embarrassment. “Oh, no! I am sure she is frightfully busy, and so I wouldn’t want to inconvenience her.”

Claude continues to mull these things over in his mind. Claude was quite interested in finally meeting her, as hers was a name heard more often than not among Leicester nobles despite the weak presence of the eastern church, Luzia’s deeds had brought her much renown on her own merits. And there was also a point of personal interest to Claude, the rumored mysterious knight that always stood by her side.

With the explanation finished, and the Deer now talking among themselves, Bileth sits down at his desk to get to some lingering grading. Work as a professor had little time for breaks, as it turned out. 

“Well, if that’s all, then I have something else I need to attend to,” Claude says, picking up a wrapped parcel he had stored on his desk. “Headed to the library.”

Hilda gives him a look with barely-concealed curiosity. “Come on, it’s a day off the rest of the day! Are you really just going to spend it studying?”

Claude gives her a wink and a two-fingered salute. “now Hilda, what kind of house leader would I be if I didn’t use every single moment to my advantage,” he lets both hands fall to his sides. “Just kidding, it’s a friend’s birthday today, and I need to go track them down.”

“Ooh~” Hilda says, eyeing the package with more curiosity. “It’s for Linhardt, isn’t it? What’d you get them, some sort of nerdy book?”

Claude gives her a look of feigned ignorance. “I dunno, that is a sacred secret only for me and the recipient to know.”

“We all know it’s Linhardt,” Lysithea says, taking a break from her book to target something like a glare his way. “You two snuck away from the victory feast together, are you really trying to hide it?”

“I think it’s cute, honestly!” Leonie says, resting her chin in her hands. “I just wanna know how Lin takes the gift, I bet you picked it out super carefully.”

Claude gives them all a small sort of unreadable look. Is this what usual friendships are like? It’s hard for Claude not to recoil instinctively at their curiosity at his personal relationship details. Someone(an enemy) could easily use his growing affection for Linhardt against him. Obviously, none of his classmates is his enemy(apart from perhaps, Lorenz), he shouldn’t be so guarded, and yet--

“Uhm…” A small voice floats up from Claude’s other side and he turns to face Marianne who sits curled up in on herself. “I get that everyone is curious but…If Claude doesn’t want to talk about his relationship with Linhardt then…I think perhaps you should let him keep it private.” At that moment, she suddenly becomes aware that everyone is staring at her. “Ah! Uhm! I mean, it’s just my thoughts…sorry if it was out of line.”

Hilda shakes her head. “No, you’re absolutely right Marianne,” she turns to Claude. “Sorry if I was prying, I wish you luck today, I know Linhardt will love it.” The others seated around her nod and give Claude supportive smiles.

At the moment he really doesn’t know what to think, but he feels a distinct puff of warmth in his chest. Something that he hasn’t yet experienced, but it seems like something good that he should be grateful for. 

Of course, Claude finds Linhardt in the library, the mage must have also come straight here after homeroom ended. Linhardt is asleep, face buried in a book at by now their usual table in the corner.

“Oi, Linhardt,” Claude says, waving a hand in Linhardt’s field of view. “You’re awake aren’t you?”

Linhardt’s vision snapped into focus and settled on Claude. “Yes. Need something?” Linhardt looked a little irritated, but for the moment, that did not stop Claude. 

“Haven’t you heard? Teach told us that this month we will be working together for the monthly mission. ”

“Yes, I have been told that,” Linhardt replied, clearly not the reaction that Claude was expecting.

“Come on, what’s with that face? Doesn’t the idea of working together with me at least get you a little motivated?”

“Like the assignment two moons prior, it looks like we will be on guard duty, correct? However, the students that will be accompanying Sister Luzia will be a small group chosen by the professors and the class leaders.”

“Yeah, that’s right...” Claude has begun to watch Linhardt’s expression carefully.

“I have no expectation that I of all people will be selected for this mission. Not by the professor, and certainly not by Edelgard.” 

For a moment, Claude could swear just a hint of sadness floated to the surface there.“So, what you’re saying is that in reality, you and I won’t be working together after all,” Claude grins. “See, I knew you were looking forward to something like that.”

Linhardt grimaces. “I said as much the last moon, did I not? That I would much prefer an opportunity for us to work in tandem,” Linhardt’s cross expression vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “Because of that, there’s no need to say that we will be spending that time together this moon,”

Claude moves forward a bit, trying to meet Linhardt’s gaze. “Hey, putting the class mission aside, we have plenty of other opportunities to be together this moon. For example, right now.” Claude reaches out and gently covers Linhardt’s hand with his own. “So don’t go making such a disappointed face, okay?”

“Huh? I’m not...disappointed.”

“You can’t hide it from me. I can tell, the minuscule proof of your disappointment.”

“What is that supposed to mean...”

Claude reaches out with his other hand and places a thumb to the corner of Linhardt’s mouth. “Right here, where the corners of your mouth turn down just a few degrees...that’s how I know.”

Linhardt stares back at Claude, their lips turned into a very visible pout. “Anyway. Did you come here for a particular reason? Or did you just come to hold my hand and prove how good you are at reading my micro-expressions?”

Claude lets out a chuckle. “Now that you mention it, I do have something else that I’m here for,” Claude says, finally pulling the wrapped parcel out from under the table and placing it between them. This is apparently interesting enough for Linhardt to push his book aside.

“Looks like you aren’t here for research yourself. Making a delivery?”

He pats the parcel under his arms with an impish look. "In a manner of speaking. I wonder if you can guess what it is and what it's for?"

“Well, you seem to think that I have a reason to guess what it is. And you would likely get some satisfaction from my guess...” he calculates, based on his observed behaviour of gift-giving. “Is it a birthday gift for me? I think my birthday is soon...or has it already passed?”

Linhardt's question prompts a short laugh. "You don't know when your own birthday is? Well, for the record, it's today. And you got it in one--but can you guess what it is?"

Linhardt frowns slightly. “I know when my birthday is, I just am never quite sure which day today is,” he gives a small yawn. “I don’t typically keep a normal day-night cycle after all. It is far too much trouble...” he blinks. “Wait, is it a present for me?” He pauses again. “You know I don’t like surprises. So it must be something....a book? Maybe a chess strategy guide?”

"Hmm, getting warmer..."

“You didn’t get me an entire chess set, did you?”

"Sheesh. So much for a birthday surprise!" 

“But you wanted me to—“ he is cut off by the package being shoved towards him. His smile comes back, much wider this time as he digs his fingers in the carefully pull off the wrapping paper.

"Happy birthday,” Claude says with a grin.

“I’ve never had a chess set of my own, only used my mother’s so...this is delightful.”

"Heh. Glad to hear I made the right choice."

When Linhardt opens the package, they reveal a chessboard made from smooth white marble and a wooden box. Inside, the box is lined with velvet, with a little indentation for each piece to rest; the black pieces are carved from black marble, while the "white" ones are carved from yellow jasper.

Linhardt lets out a small gasp. The chess set is exquisite, they run their fingers along the board’s surface and open the box to closely examine the ornate pieces. A small smirk curves their lips when taking in the Leicester yellow of the prime player’s pieces. 

Even though they were both nobles and this kind of gift was hardly exorbitant on the scale of their presumed wealth, it still meant a great deal to Linhardt. Because it was not only proof that Claude took Linhardt’s own interests seriously, but it was also something that the two of them could enjoy together. 

“Surely with this gift, you also intend to indulge my challenge?” Linhardt said, his tone rather low.

Linhardt then pushes the board between them and begins pulling the pieces from their lavish box one by one. Carefully lining up the yellow pieces on Linhardt’s side, and the black pieces in front of Claude.

”Of course.” Claude arches a brow to see Linhardt switching their colours. “Does this mean you’re joining my house, Linhardt? I’m flattered.”

“No, this means that I am taking the primo position and will make my move first,” Linhardt says with a sly grin while toying idly with the king piece. “You should be flattered _ if _ were to join your house. I happen to be _ undefeated _ in chess.” Lin’s voice was rich with teasing sarcasm, but the excited smile was completely genuine.

He eyes Linhardt's fiddling with the yellow king with an arched brow. "Is that so? Well, I suppose your birthday is no time for me to insist on the first move. So--" He picks up the black king. "Today, I'll be Edelgard." He adopts a terrible high-pitched Edelgard voice. "You're so irresponsible, Claude. Are you completely incapable of keeping quiet?'"

Linhardt lets out a dry scoff. “No, that’s not quite right,” he clears his throat and adopts their own Edelgard impression. “If you have time to play games, even games of strategy, you have time to do your assignments!” Linhardt replies, with a small smirk.

Linhardt then removes his hand from the king and makes a few searching movements with his fingers, aiming to distract Claude from Lin’s first piece choice, even for a moment. Lin then takes the king-side knight—(Who was that Calvary girl from the golden deer? Leo—Leonora?) and places it on F-3 before flicking his gaze back up to meet Claude’s

He chuckles and watches as Linhardt makes their first move, resting his chin in one hand. He's not terribly distracted--when it comes to schemes and strategy, he's hard to sway.

"Ah, Leonie to F-3, is it? Or is that Lorenz?" He grins.

“Lorenz. That’s the....pompous purple one, right? He isn’t that fond of you last I heard, so I suppose this is Leonie?” Lin shrugs. “Your move, master tactician.”

Claude snorts at the description of Lorenz. "That's Lorenz, all right." Then he rolls his eyes. "Ugh, who even started that?"

His opening move is indicative of a slightly higher-risk, higher-reward strategy, and he makes it decisively. "He isn't fond of me for a _few_ reasons, to be honest. Chief among them is that before I showed up as heir to House Riegan, his father was busy setting Gloucester up as the next family to lead the Alliance. He also thinks I'm irresponsible, uncouth, and suspicious.

Linhardt takes in Claude’s move and immediately plots out a few potential outcomes in their mind. Lin decided to anticipate the one that seemed to suit Claude the best and moved a queen-side pawn two spaces forward accordingly. 

“Right, right,” Linhardt was suddenly aware of how little they knew about Leicester politics at the moment. But the fact that house Riegan had been heirless until only recently, had certainly come to Linhardt’s attention. “Let me guess, he thinks that you don’t live up to the ‘noble standard’ befitting your position?” Linhardt said with a fair amount of disdain.

"Good guess." Ah, looks like Linhardt is starting to guess at his strategy. Time to change it. He picks up a bishop and considers it. "Now _ this _ , this looks like a certain nap-loving white mage to me." He twirls the piece between his fingers for a moment with a grin, then adopts his terrible Edelgard voice again. "Linhardt, advance! I _ will _ prevail!" And he sets the bishop down on a new space to make his next move.

“Your Edelgard impression really is terrible,” Linhardt frowned slightly. Edelgard just found Linhardt to be a nuisance as far as they knew. Linhardt then observes the board and decides on their next move. 

Linhardt then, without thinking moves his queen-side pawn one space diagonally to block Claude’s ‘Linhardt’ but after doing so Linhardt lets out a small _ ah _ upon realizing that it was not a legal Fódlani move. 

Lin replaces the pawn and instead moves another pawn forward to accomplish the same goal. 

Claude frowns at the board, wondering if he’s getting his variants mixed up. He could have sworn in Fódlani chess the pawns couldn’t move like that—oh. Then why…? That wasn’t some kind of…subtle hint, was it? A test, or a threat…

He gives Linhardt a smirk, erasing his concerns from his face. “Looks like Linhardt the Undefeated forgot how to play.”

“You should be flattered, you may be my most rewarding opponent yet.”

Part of Linhardt had hoped Claude would ignore that little blunder but now it had to be addressed. “I have been researching other chess variants lately, and it looks like I got a bit mixed up,” they reply with an indifferent shrug. “I haven’t really had a serious opponent since being able to read so much in the library here. Playing one ruleset of chess just got boring to me I suppose.”

“Excuses, excuses.” He searches Linhardt’s face for a moment. That’s…probably the truth. Right? “Still, I’m flattered that you think I’m a serious opponent.”

Over the next few move exchanges, he plays a bit defensively, but it’s all set up for a gambit he intends to enact once he’s got everything right where he wants it.

“What kinds of variants have you been studying?”

Linhardt keeps careful notes of Claude’s moves, seeing where the set up could be leading, Linhardt also plays it safe, never the one to rush in head first, but their moves also left a vulnerability only very few could exploit. 

“Just about any that I can get my hands on. Morphisian, Dagdan, other rulesets that have changed over time. The Queen’s oppressive move set was a relatively recent change,” they pause after taking their latest move, fingertip resting on the tip of the yellow king. 

“Dagdan is almost fundamentally different, what with its 9x9 board and a full 21 pieces,” it then clicks in his mind. “Ah, that’s right! It was Almyran, or at least a variant brought from the east. The one that’s the opposite of Fódlani pawns. Pawns really dictate the flow of the game so I was truly fascinated,” a rather pleased smile forms on Linhardt’s face.

Claude relaxes a bit, listening with interest to the tidbit about the Dagdan variant and then eyeing that smile with the same neutral expression as always. Studying Almyran chess, huh? …shame they couldn’t actually play it.

Claude spots the gap in Linhardt’s defences, but doesn’t jump on it right away; he needs just one more turn to spring his gambit’s trap, and if he acts in too much haste, he’ll miss his chance. So he makes a relatively neutral move instead, in an attempt to maintain the board’s equilibrium for now.

“Pawns dictate the flow of the game, huh?” Claude continues, genuinely interested but not above using it to his advantage in this case. “I’d say it’s the same in Fodlani but, I have a feeling you mean something different than that.”

Linhardt’s eyes rest on the board, trying to deduce what Claude was attempting, and in response, makes a move that subtly starts the hinge of their very own trap. “There's a very limited amount of advisable opening moves and the one that most players use consists of moving a pawn that allows your bishop to move. And from then on, movements of pawns carve out sections of the board and create whole impassable sections.”

“A bit like a real battlefield, huh?” There—time to make his move. He picks up the black queen— “Now, Hubert! Destroy them!” (Edelgard voice)—and puts his plans into motion, executing the gambit with a grin.

Linhardt frowns slightly at the observation, but it is apt. But maybe in the end, that little diversion was just to distract them, because now Claude’s reckless gambit was on full display. It was impressive, but Linhardt had a counter prepared. “Now, that is a more convincing Edelgard impression,” Linhardt smirks. “Hilda! Now! It’s time to show what the Golden Deer is made of!” Linhardt replies in what is…ostensibly? Supposed to be a Claude impression, Linhardt giggles and covers their mouth in embarrassment, while releasing their own queen in retaliation.

He laughs at the impression, shaking his head. “And just what _ are _ the Golden Deer made of, exactly? How did I let you talk me into playing the Eagles, again? I could have been doing priceless Hilda impressions this whole time.”

He rests his chin in one hand, elbow on the table, to survey the board. Nearly back to square one, here, but at least he’s no worse off than Linhardt is. He picks up his remaining rook and places it forcefully in a fairly aggressive move, mostly just so he can adopt a sort of high-pitched Caspar voice: “Hey, Edelgard! I’m gonna punch all these guys to kingdom come!”

It was probably meant to be joking, but Linhardt’s mind jumped right passed it to something that had been lingering on their mind since the sniper tower. “You are about to find out soon enough,” Linhardt smirks. 

Linhardt giggles at the Caspar voice while their eyes follow Claude’s movements as always, taking stock and calculating accordingly. Linhardt was running out of options, and if Claude saw through their plan, it was all over. 

“I wanted to play first, so I took the set closest in colour to white I guess,” Linhardt shrugged, their expression falling slightly. “Additionally...I thought you _ enjoyed _ me taking the lead in things. Unless that was you just playing along and indulging in a curious aspect of my character?” Linhardt felt a little indignant at that idea, like Linhardt’s hidden propensities were just some form of entertainment for Claude After making their move, Linhardt stares back at Claude.

He hums a bit in thought, watching both Linhardt’s move and their expression. He doesn’t respond to the question for a moment, studying the board. He’s pretty sure he’s figured out where Linhardt is going with this…and moves to intercept it with a quiet, self-satisfied “hm.” …not realizing that, in the process, he’s accidentally left himself open elsewhere on the board. If Linhardt spots it, the whole game will end in a stalemate.

Only then does he look up from the game to meet Linhardt’s eye. “I suppose it depends on which things you mean. This,” he indicates the game, “is a competition and one that I had no intention of letting you win. But when it comes to other things…” He grins. “You’ll have to be a little more specific. In fact, maybe a demonstration is in order.”

“A demonstration? You must have at least a guess at what I mean then, surely,” Linhardt drawls, taking a few more moments to carefully consider each move until Linhardt spots it. While winning was always preferable, considering Linhardt’s earlier boasting, in truth, any game was useful. But for some reason, Linhardt felt motivated to avoid Claude’s smug victory. 

Linhardt makes the move, compensating for their own mistake in retrospect, but with the removal of Claude’s crucial piece, the game is doomed in end in a stalemate.

Claude makes a face, watching Linhardt remove the piece he needed to win from the board. “Stalemate, huh? I can live with that, I suppose. Though next time, _ I’m _ playing the Alliance and I’m going to win,” He grins.

“You seem to put so much focus on winning, superiority,” Linhardt muses. “And yet, you are surprisingly eager for me to boss you around and…push my advantage.” Linhardt then removes their hand from the board with another flourish and a smirk. “I simply wonder why that is, and whether it is genuine or not,” the exaggeration drops from their face as their eyes rest on Claude again, evaluation, now no longer needing to focus on the game.

Chin still resting in his hand, he appraised Linhardt with curiosity. It’s a good question, he thinks, and one he’s not entirely certain he has a good answer for. Despite his nonchalant pose, his demeanour becomes more serious. “It’s true, I do hate to lose, but it’s not about superiority. It’s about living to fight another day. Sure, this is only a game; but someday, the stakes will be much higher, and I’ll have to be prepared to win not only for my own sake but for the sake of those I lead. Every victorious strategy before then, no matter how small, puts me one step closer to being able to do that.”

Linhardt very carefully listens to the first part of Claude’s answer. It was another piece of the puzzle, and despite the circumstances, Lin could tell that it was something very crucial. A vulnerability and it piled very neatly on top of Claude’s answer about his first kill, and now about his disappointment at the loss at the mock battle. 

“I think I see now. Even if it’s a game, you can not help but focus on what may be of use to you in a real-life scenario of actual life-or-death.”

It was difficult for Linhardt to separate nuance from their inherent view of the world. Linhardt simply saw the world in extremes, in distinct categories. So the fact that Claude could have a seemingly dominant attitude in the majority of his life, but have a submissive attitude in another, it stuck out to Linhardt as a contradiction. To be able to see it as a nuance, would take more information. 

He hums a bit in thought as he muses over the rest. “As for letting you push your advantage...” He smirks, then, reverting back to that half-teasing, half-inscrutable tone that’s either full of meaning or totally meaningless. “As I said, I could use a demonstration, don’t you think? Just what kinds of commands are you looking to give today, my liege?”

And based on earlier interactions, Claude was most likely intending to goad Linhardt into that confident, imperious state again. But instead, Linhardt only felt the frustration of their efforts for knowledge being denied. 

“I _ order _you to answer me,” Linhardt replies. “Are your acts of submission just one of your games,” Linhardt, despite wanting to be straight forward, felt themself being pulled back into the game. “Or is your fealty true?” Linhardt asks their voice not quite that bemused imperious tone quite yet. 

Claude blinks, finally taking his chin out of his hand and sitting up straighter. 'Acts of submission'? Linhardt makes it sound like...well, they're talking like it’s part of the game, but they don't sound much like they're playing.

"Okay, time out. If you're asking me about a_ ctual _fealty, I think you know the answer is no. But I also don't think that's what you're asking." He leans forward a little to study Linhardt's face. “It sounds like you're asking if I enjoy this little game we play, where you give commands and I follow them. And to that, the answer is yes, I do."

“Yes, you are correct, that is what I was asking. Forgive me for not being more clear.” Usually, Linhardt has no trouble stating exactly how they feel, and so this additional change in their own behaviour only adds to their confusion. 

"It's not just to indulge you--although I have to admit, you're cute when you give orders." He grins a bit, but his tone isn't mocking; he's flirting, but he's not joking.

A small blush blooms on Linhardt’s cheeks as he continues. “Obviously I am not asking you to become my actual retainer. I simply didn’t understand _ why _ you would enjoy it,” Linhardt is looking away now, but not avoiding Claude’s gaze. Linhardt’s usual wandering gaze as eye contact was never their favourite. 

“I don’t really get it either,” Claude replies. “But it's fun. And weirdly relaxing? And, if I’m being honest, it’s even a little thrilling.”

Linhardt looks back at Claude, their expression showing deep interest “I enjoy it too. I liked kissing you against the parapet in the tower like that. Much more than our first kiss under the tree.“ Linhardt pauses to ponder. “I would say that as well it was…exhilarating.”

Claude’s expression softens, starting to see how Linhardt was working though understanding. “What a peculiar conversation this is turning out to be, huh? You’re also very cute when you are working through a problem.”

Linhardt frowns slightly. “I still do not understand this part of myself it seems…”

Linhardt then begins to put the chess pieces back into their ornate box one-by-one, starting with the captured pieces on their own side. Claude had come here with a gift, ostensibly to make Linhardt happy, that much had to be clear. And yet...it was all so confusing. What could Claude really be after?

“Hey, no need to be so down about it,” Claude says, reaching a hand out across the table to gently hold their hand again. “Since I helped you make this discovery, I fully intend to help research to its conclusion.”

Linhardt blinks and meets Claude’s gaze. “Are you…offering to be my research partner?”

Claude cracks a grin. “Sure, if you want to call it that. But test subject works fine too,” Claude runs his thumb along the back of Linhardt’s hand. “”

"I would be happy to play you again some time, though we clearly approach the game very differently. If spending more time with me is what you wish, we can go star-gazing as you have suggested, although the prime season for that is swiftly passing us by," but the cold weather would give them an excellent excuse to snuggle up together...

“You bet, Linhardt,” Claude says, clearing up the discarded parcel paper and helping Lin put away some of the pieces. “Do you have any other plans for today?”

Linhardt ponders. “Not exactly, but as it’s my birthday, I suspect that Caspar might have something planned.”

“Well then, loathe am I to get in your way,” Claude stands up from the table and seems to be making his way to leave. Linhardt collects the now fully cleaned up chess set into his arms and walks over to catch Claude before he leaves. “Yes, my liege? Was there an order you wished to proclaim before I take my leave?”

Linhardt rolls their eyes and leans forward to give Claude a quick peck on the lips. “Stargazing, before it gets too cold.”

“I promise,” Claude lifts a hand to caress Linhardt’s cheek. “And how about I escort my liege back to your quarters?”

Linhardt appears pleased and loops one arm through Claude’s. It was easy to forget everything with Claude. The mission, the rising political tensions, Rhea’s increasingly bizarre requests. It was all so tiring, so draining. And sometimes it was enough to just spend an afternoon with someone attractive and fascinating. At least they could always hope that it would be. However long that state could last would soon become more and more abundantly clear. 

  
  



	5. Enduring Trepidation Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have had to do some Redactions. First of all, I have split the original character of ‘The Cardinal’ into two characters; Luzia, a former artesian noble who is to be the next eastern bishop, and Anara who is someone who ‘lived and worked at garreg mach much like Cyril once did’, the other similarities between their characters will become even more clear.
> 
> Also according to Cindered Shadows and Silver Snow apparently, the rank of “cardinal” is a secret upper rank in the seiros church. Luzia is still ranked Cardinal but i had to change all mentions of that in the narration and dialogue. Otherwise yeah, this is gonna become much more political and plot-heavy and will eventually lead into my whole part-2 route rewrite.

_ 16th of Red Wolf Moon, 1180 _

Several days later, Sister Luzia arrived at the Monastery with suitable fanfare. Despite this, class was held as normal, even as the students buzzed with this new, tantalising development. The Bishop came with a complement of soldiers, all employees of the Central Church, along with an eye-catching knight by her side. As riveting as shifting church leadership was, the rumours and chatter were most obviously entered around this mysterious knight.

_ “She wears a braid…isn't that like Claude’s? Is it some sort of fashion trend?” _

_ “Don’t you think she kinda looks like Cyril? Maybe they are related,” _

Among many other things could be heard as she communed with her cohorts in the Knights Hall, spotted talking with Catherine or Alois around the monastery, and as of now, found her way near the officer’s academy courtyard.

While many of the students were taken in by her, Linhardt however, was still much more focused on his usual areas of interest, that being at the moment, sleeping through the latter half of the day’s classes with his face in a crestology tome. 

“Class is dismissed,” Veles announces with a flourish of her hands, the resulting commotion being enough to at least rouse Linhardt from deep sleep to mere dozing. He, however, did not fully awaken until a familiar voice rings out over his sleeping form.

“Hey, Linhardt!” Caspar’s voice jerks Lin to waking and he looks up, eyes still heavy with sleep.

“Caspar?”

“You know, the Blue Lions asked me to help with their mission this month!”

Linhardt sits up a little straighter, face unreadably blank. “Is that so? I suppose that is a decision they are permitted to make.”

Caspar scratches the back of his head with a grin. “Yeah, I talked to the professor and Edelgard about it. They said it’s fine, especially since not all of us are going to the Ceremony anyway.”

Caspar seems excited, and Linhardt wants to be happy for him too, but finds instead that their heart feels…oddly heavy.

“Sorry, I have somewhere to be,” Linhardt says somewhat suddenly, gathering his books into his arms.

“Huh?” Caspar steps back, still very puzzled as he watches Linhardt. “If you’re headed off to nap, let me—”

“I’m going to the Library,” Linhardt clutches their books tightly against their chest, walking towards the door of the classroom without looking back. 

“Ah okay,” Caspar’s tone suddenly changes as well, something that pique’s Linhardt's interest, causing him to stop and turn around. 

“I always go to the library, is there some sort of issue now?”

Caspar scratches the back of his head, not looking at Linhardt. “I mean, you used to always go to the Library alone, right?”

“Yes, usually, apart from the times you choose to tag along.”

“Yeah but,” Caspar gives a frustrated grunt. “You’re going to meet up with Claude, aren’t you?”

Linhardt blinks. “No, I am..honestly just going to the Library,” Linhardt then brushes a strand of hair behind his ear. “I don’t really plan on meeting up with Claude when I do it just, happens.”

Caspar’s lips remain scrunched into a pout. 

Linhardt furrows his brow and heads for the door again. “Well, have fun training with the Blue Lions this moon.”

Linhardt wasn’t willing to call it anything more than a coincidence, but as it happened Claude was there, standing outside the Golden Deer classroom, faced in Linhardt’s general direction. His arms were crossed as he leaned back against the pillar. From this distance, Linhardt could at least tell that he was focusing on something, so Linhardt briskly walked over across Claude’s line of sight. Despite Linhardt’s usual reticence to draw attention to their closeness in public, Linhardt looks over, lifts a hand in a small wave. But Claude doesn’t seem to notice and this causes Linhardt to draw back suddenly in embarrassment and scuttle off into the main building towards the Library.

It’s fine, Claude is really busy. There’s no need to be disappointed, no need to be so upset. He probably just didn’t see. Right? As Linhardt had asserted, saying that they could spend any substantial time together this moon would have been naive. It hurts the most when expectations are raised and then disappointed.

In the courtyard by the officer’s academy, Claude’s unfocused gaze lies fixed ahead of him. That distant gaze that seems focused on nothing, but instead takes in everything. And without his visual faculties being fully employed, his ears can pick up far more than they normally would. Other students, some from his own class and others mill about. All of them buzzing with chatter. 

When he comes to, he catches Linhardt out of the corner of his eye. But just when he is about to call after him, Linhardt disappears within the main hall. Probably heading for the Library, shouldn’t bother him. Claude instead turns his eyes back towards the whispering students and beyond. Standing by the entrance to the training grounds, by the steps sauna stands a very prominent figure, the kind that would draw attention anywhere in Fódlan.

“Did you see that knight with the visiting priest?” A whisper floats out of the crowd and worms it’s way into Claude’s ear. 

“Oh yeah, totally scary. She barely looks like a Knight at all!”

“All those face scars, I wonder if she’s a formal criminal.“

“She must be, you know how those—”

Claude pushes himself off from the pillar, starting the chattering students next to him. He gives them an easy smile and a two-finger salute before striding across the courtyard. The Knight had appeared to have finished her conversation with her fellow knight, and so Claude now makes his approach. Easy and casual with as bright a smile as he can muster.

When he gets close enough, she notices and turns. For a moment, they share a moment of understanding. That silent acknowledgment shared between foreigners in Fódlan. There’s a flash of pity, and something almost like nostalgia before her face pulls into a smile that puts his own dry forgery to shame. 

“You must be Claude, the Golden Deer leader this year.” It was more of a statement than a question and Claude can only nod in reply. 

“And you must be the illustrious Ser Anara,” he stops walking a few paces away from her and uses that same unfocused gaze to take everything else in. Her armour is silver-white, like the standard Seiros fare, but instead of the maroon accents, her tassels and straps are made from yellow ochre and forest green. Colours that should bring Claude a sense of familiarity and comfort, but instead make him feel like the eyes ever boring into the back of his head are staring even harder.

Her hair is dark and thick, a mess of heavy ringlets swept back from her face, with a section under her right ear pulled into a braid that rests along her collarbone. Her eyes however, even though the colour reminds Claude of home, the open kindness that he sees—does not. 

“Now, what can I help you with?” She asks. Perhaps she is unaware of the eyes clearly on her, or perhaps she just chooses to ignore it. Claude can’t help but admire her composure at the very least.

“I’m sure you’re already aware, but my class is one of the groups assigned to assist with Sister Luzia’s protection. I would be remiss if I passed up the opportunity to familiarise myself with her most trusted companion.”

Anara gives him a somewhat wary smile, as if assessing what he is truly after. 

“Well, as it happens, I was just on my way to the training grounds, I’d be happy to spar with you,”

Claude nods in reply, sparing a brief glance back to the courtyard where indeed, several other students were staring at them. He however now ignores them and falls into stride with the knight.

The training grounds are thankfully, empty. Students usually spend the time directly after class socialising or getting food. And those most devout to their training also often split that time between the knights hall. 

Anara strides in, clearly familiar with the facilities. “You’re pretty brave, you know,” she says, grabbing a training sword from the rack and holding it up to the light.

“Now, whatever do you mean by that?” Claude asks, following suit and picking a sword and weighing it in his hands. 

Anara gives him a pointed look, using one hand to adjust the braid under her chin. “Oh I’m sure you know exactly what I mean.”

“Oh, what do you know? I see you are a fan of this hairstyle as well, what a coincidence.” It wouldn’t be obvious to most, but Anara can probably tell that he is slightly shaken. As much as he was obviously looking to learn more about her background, he hoped that she would keep it as unspoken as possible.

“Of course I’ve heard of the suddenly revealed Riegan heir. Came out of nowhere, hardly anyone believes it, even if you have the crest.” She walks out to the centre of the training ground, gripping the sword first with one hand as she swings it in an opening form salute, before gripping it with both hands and falling into a familiar stance. “I’m clearly not going to bring attention to it. I know as well as anyone how our people are treated over here,” she gives him another glance. “Which is why, I honestly commend you.”

Anara has clearly been in Fóldan for much longer than Claude himself has, although he is not sure yet how long. Watching her warm up, her techniques are Fódlani, but her base stances and fundamentals instead remind him of home.

Claude then follows suit. Often he resisted using a sword but now, he feels oddly at ease. As long as no one else is around, he lets himself fall back into the old forms he was drilled in as a child.

As difficult as it might prove to be, Claude has to learn as much as he could. And ideally, solidify her as an ally. Cyril might have completely abandoned the land of his birth, but this woman still might prove fruitful yet. 

When they were both warmed up, they approached and circled each other, half moving along with Fódlani custom, half on near-instinct. In Fódlan, so much was caught up in pretence and etiquette, but now…

Their blades met in a steady rhythm, a dance of offence and defence, of guarding and attacking, dodging and striking. Claude felt himself loosen up, just a little bit, her movements were familiar to him. Instead of preparing for anything, he was ready and knew how to respond. Something that Claude had almost forgotten the feeling of.

“Say, who taught you how to fight?” He asks, catching her blade against the crossguard and forcing them apart with a sharp metal scrape. “Pardon my noticing but, not many of the Knights fight the way you do,”

She gives him another of those easy smiles before moving in for another strike that he narrowly parried. “I had a teacher back home. My parents’ commander. A legendary fighter, undefeated in 100 battles,”

Claude raises an eyebrow, responding to her next strike with a feint that then launches into another slash at her non-dominant side, to which Anara responds with a heavy lunge. 

"Your teacher sounds like a really impressive guy," Claude comments. "I'd love to meet him someday."

"Maybe you will," she replies. "But unfortunately, he's not exactly easy to get ahold of," Anara then gives Claude a series look up and down before they move into their next set. "But judging by that footwork of yours, I have a feeling you already have."

"Now how about that. We have the same hairstyle and the same old combat instructor? How _ much _ we have in common."

Another strike, another dodge and parry. "I think it's probably best for you that we don't actually share that much if I'm being honest."

"I could say the same for you."

Their bout continues until Claude starts to slip slightly. He's skilled, but Anara is far more experienced, being at least 10 years his senior at the very least. And, strength-based combat could never truly be his forte, no matter how much he wished. 

"You're good Claude. Honestly, I think we both got about the same amount of teachings from our old master," she says, pulling away as Claude was clearly at his limit. "I was about 15 when I crossed the throat, after all."

"Is that so?" Claude catches his breath, now meeting her gaze as he sees the pieces all start to fit together in her mind.

Anara then gives him a sudden wide-eyed look, her mouth falling open. “Wait a second—you’re—!”

At that moment, perhaps by the grace of the goddess, or by the whims of fate, the heavy doors to the training grounds swung open and a high-pitched familiar voice rang out across the grounds, causing Claude to start before he turned around. He almost moved too fast, and his smile wasn’t fully composed when he faced Hilda. He prayed to any god that would listen that she wouldn’t notice. 

“So this is where you ran off to!” Hilda remarks, striding forward but stopping several paces away. She isn’t looking at Claude, but instead at Anara. With a distant kind of suspicion that hurts worse than any strike Anara could even land on him.

“I wasn’t exactly running off,” Claude replies, lowering his sword and leaning its tip into the sand. “I was just having a friendly bout with Ser Anara here,”

Anara seemed a little dazed still, but managed to step back into her own usual performative swagger. “He was getting his ass handed to him, but I appreciate his spirit.” Anara lowers her own blade and steps towards Hilda with a short bow. “I am Anara, personal guard to Sister Luzia. At your service,” she maintains a haughty grin that Hilda struggles to reply to with her own easy smile. 

“Anara, huh.”

Anara’s expression cools slightly. “Not exactly a common name around here, I know.”

Hilda shakes her head a little too hastily. “No no—I don’t mean it’s weird or anything. I’ve just never heard it before! It’s actually really beautiful sounding.” Who knows if Hilda meant that? She had to be more familiar with Almyran names than most.

“It means pomegranate blossom—” Claude blurts without thinking. “As Anara has told me, at least.” 

Anara glances briefly his way but keeps any surprise she might feel below the surface. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t born in Fódlan.”

“Oh…could you be originally from Almyra like Cyril is?”

Anara’s smile stiffens. “Yeah. The kid and I actually have a whole lot in common.”

Claude at the very least is not at all eager to go down that particular line of questioning, not to mention how Anara must feel. And so he quickly moves the subject on. “Well, Hilda, I assume you’re here with some sort of errand? I hope not to try and foist one of your duties on me.”

Hilda rolls her eyes. “No not that. The professor told me to come and find you.” She replies although seeming somewhat more tense than usual. She never acted this way around Cyril, maybe an Almyran that could actually pose a threat was more worrying? “The Knight Captains are meeting with Edelgard and Veles already, so they’d like to see you next.”

“Ah, of course,” Claude nods, walking over to put the sword back on the rack with a glance to Anara.

“Will you be joining us, Hilda?”

Hilda shakes her head. “Nah, not unless you really need me. Holst and my dad dragged me to far too many of those kinds of things before I even got here.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Claude sees Anara wince noticeably before landing a particularly heavy hit against a training dummy. And so Claude’s fears are all but confirmed.

“Ah, of course, what sort of scoundrel would I be, asking the lovely lady of house Goneril to expend even the smallest of additional effort.”

Anara then cleaves the head section of the training dummy clean from its body.

“Anara,” Claude calls behind him. “We really have to chat more. I have a feeling there’s more about me that you will be fascinated to know,” he says with a wink before turning and following Hilda out of the training grounds.

There was no need to dwell on, or dig into it, but it was now almost clear that Anara had once been captured by house Goneril soldiers, just as Cyril had. And yet, Hilda is the one regarding her with disdain? Claude would never assume about her just because of who her family was, but that didn’t mean that she would be able to give him the same in kind.

And several of the things that Anara had said now stick with Claude. Was he really that obvious? Sure, at times, it seemed like alliance nobles were on the very verge of accusing him of being a half-breed, but in reality, most Fódlaners just had never even seen an Almyran close-up, with their helmet off to be able to really _ see _ them as another human. Hilda clearly had no idea. With the way she kept glancing at Anara…there’s no way, she’d be able to hide it if she knew.

Claude parts with Hilda at the side entrance to the Main Building and he whisks himself up to the knight’s offices. Should be routine, just a meeting with Teach and Jeralt, right? And he just hoped that none of his nerves would seep through and he would be able to sail through just as normal.

After leaving the courtyard, Linhardt did indeed head for the Library. It too is mostly empty, nothing to concern himself with at least, just the old librarian and the odd monk. In Linhardt’s seemingly random wandering, he finds his way to the restricted reference section. The complete genealogies of the noble houses not meant for students, but Linhardt never paid much heed to such regulations. He pulls out the Leicester Alliance volumes, along with one imperial volume that includes documentation of the Hrym region. Linhardt then takes the books along with a couple about Saint Cethleann and sets himself up at an empty table.

Saint Crests typically stayed within the empire, and were not associated with one particular noble house, but offered prestige and legitimacy to those in which it manifested. Linhardt himself had received his Cethleann crest through his mother’s line, as House Hevring hadn’t had crests in its line for generations. 

A major crest of Cethleann? Linhardt had never even met anyone who shared his crest before, and so, he found it endlessly fascinating. But actually going to see her? Perhaps, but for the moment, Linhardt was content to read. Perhaps his mother’s line was connected to that of Sister Luzia? It seemed likely, as his mother’s family had come originally from the eastern territories as he understands it. But after the Hrym rebellion, those records became quite sparse. 

“Ah, I see you have taken an interest in Saint Cethleann?”

Linhardt looks up, and sees none other than Flayn. She had recently joined the golden deer class after her abduction, and so since then he had at least started seeing her around the classrooms more. Linhardt, while usually annoyed when his research is interrupted, for the moment, finds it difficult to be cross with her.

“Well, sort of. I bear a crest of Cethleann myself, and this visiting bishop bears one as well. ”

“I’ve heard!” Flayn seems rather chipper and eager to be friendly. While Linhardt cannot even begin to imagine why she would want to talk to him, he at least doesn’t feel the need to shove her away. “It’s just that, Saint Cethleann happens to be my favourite of the saints, I think she’s so fascinating.”

This seems to pique Linhardt's interest, causing him to actually turn towards her, regarding her with a neutral expression. ”In that case, actually, perhaps you can help me,” he glances back at the books. “The saint crests are very perplexing to me. The Elites very clearly passed their crests down and formed noble houses. Most of them, anyway,” he pauses, looking back at Flayn. “The only Saint Crest we can trace the lineage of is that of the Seiros crest, that being when Saint Seiros gave her power to Wilhelm...supposedly.”

“Supposedly?” Flayn frowns.

“Well, how am I meant to believe that’s what happened when we have no direct documentation of who Indech, Cichol and Cethleann passed their crests down through. House Nouvelle has claimed to bear the bloodline of Saint Macuil, however, I have not found any documentation of that within professor Hanneman’s research. Despite a house Nuvelle student having been enrolled in recent years.”

“Well, isn’t it possible that the Nuvelle student just didn’t bear that crest?”

“That is a possibility,” Linhardt says, lips pressing together in dissatisfaction. 

“Well, doesn’t it seem likely that they just did what Seiros did? They gave their power to a trusted ally that then went on to have many descendants?”

Linhardt places a hand to his chin. “I suppose that’s possible...” Linhardt then finally looks back at flayn with a small frown. Not upset with her but, pondering. “I also wonder if perhaps I am distantly related to this Luzia. I am most curious how she manifested a Major crest, considering how incredibly rare those are.”

“Well,” Flayn begins, sitting down next to Linhardt and looking down at the books with him. “You could just, go and ask her yourself?”

Linhardt continues to frown. “I would, but, I do not seem to have the best history of speaking with crest research subjects,” he says with a sigh. “Marianne will not so much as speak with me, And Lysithea seems convinced I am attempting to _ woo _ her.”

Flayn now frowns herself. “Linhardt, it appears that you simply need more practise with speaking to people! You mustn’t treat them as _ research subjects _ but instead as...well, people!”

Linhardt tilts their head to the side inquisitively. “I am not sure what you mean,”

Flayn lets out a short huff. “Here, how about you practice with me,” she smiles and points to herself. “Pretend that I have some sort of rare crest. Like, for example, a Major crest of Macuil,”

“_ Do _you have a major crest of Macuil?”

“No, well—No, I do not.”

Linhardt frowns. “Do you have a crest?”

“Pretending, Linhardt! Pretend that I have a major crest of Macuil!”

Linhardt sighs, turning towards her and readying himself. “Flayn, could I have a moment of your time?”

“Of course, Linhardt. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yes, actually. It has come to my attention that you have something very interesting to me. A Major crest that has not been documented in any surviving crestology texts!” Linhardt’s face then rather genuinely lights up seemingly at the very idea of it. Flayn wonders if he is really that good of an actor or just that much a lover of crest research. 

“Ah, yes. I do have a major crest of Macuil if that is what you mean. Would you like to know something about it?”

Linhardt nods. “Yes, I would like to know everything about it. What sort of crest is it? Magical or physical? Is it perhaps even a self-healing crest?”

“It’s a magic crest, has gifted me with an in-born aptitude for Reason magic.”

“Really?” Linhardt seems almost genuinely enthused. “It’s a major crest too, so the effects must be far stronger,” he pauses. “I would very much like to examine it for myself if you would allow. Nothing as crass as Hanneman’s poking and prodding.”

“Oh well in that case, I would love to help how I can, what do you need me to do?”

“Well, first you will have to remove your clothes—”

Flayn then suddenly fully understands the core of the issue. “Linhardt!” She scolds.

“What?”

“You can’t just ask something like that!”

“Why not? Disrobing for medical or scientific purposes is standard procedure.”

Flayn sits there and gawks at him for a moment. She may be unaware of much of recent human history and culture, but she at least knows this much. However, she can at least see that Linhardt is not intending to be creepy, it just seems like he is genuinely unaware. “Even if it is not your intention, asking someone to disrobe like that is hardly proper!”

“Then what do you suggest I do?”

Flayn ponders for a moment. “You should ask it more subtly, and be aware that they still might refuse.”

Linhardt presses his lips together and glances down. “So what you’re saying is that if I avoid saying things like that, I should have no problem getting Sister Luzia to speak with me.”

“Certainly! Especially if you make sure she knows that you are an aspiring crest scholar and that you share her crest!”

Linhardt ponders again. “Still, I often find speaking with people exhausting.”

Flayn gives him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “I believe the Cardinal is at the chapel today overseeing restoration work. You should take the opportunity before the ceremony happens next week!”

“Perhaps I shall,” Linhardt muses.

At that moment, they hear someone approaching from behind. Turning around, Flayn first sees and lets out a surprised gasp. “Claude? Oh! Hello there!” She then smiles and hops over, Linhardt, however, hangs back at the table, his face turned down and away. 

“Oh, hey Flayn. You here alone?” Claude asks.

Flayn then gets a knowing grin on her face. “No, as it happens, your sweetheart Linhardt is here as well!” 

“Sweetheart, huh?” Claude replies, his tone rather limp just as Flayn grabs him by the wrist perhaps a bit too eagerly and drags him to where Linhardt is seated. Linhardt then does look up, meeting Claude’s eyes, the two of them looking at each other silent and slightly dumbfounded for the moment.

Flayn, perhaps expecting something, gives them both a quizzical look. “Oh! Of course! You two lovebirds probably want some privacy!” 

Claude is about to make some sort of comment before she skitters away, pausing by the door to give a final little wave.

Claude then lets out a tense breath, looking back at Linhardt who is glancing away, tucking their hair behind an ear. Claude walks over and sits down next to Linhardt, immediately resting his arms and face on the table. “Linhardt, am I glad to find you here.”

“I am often in the library if you should ever need me,” Linhardt says, starting to straighten and close the books that surround him. 

Claude lets out a heavy sigh. “To be honest Linhardt, I am not even much up for talking today, maybe one of your favoured naps might be in order.”

Linhardt pauses and glances over at Claude. “I don’t see why you would need me for that,” Linhardt says, even as his cheeks flush. 

Hearing the fluctuation in Linhardt’s voice, Claude moves his head and sneaks a peak and Linhardt’s face, seeing that lovely pink flush. Claude then reaches out a hand towards Linhardt lazily, letting it rest on the mage’s shoulder in full view. "On the contrary. I need express permission from the Monarch of Dreams yourself in order to enter the kingdom of dreams."

Linhardt's cheeks remain bright red even as he finishes piling the books. He leaves them for the Librarian to put away later and turns towards Claude. “Well, you’re clearly exhausted. I’ll gladly keep you company if that’s what you’re after…” Linhardt pauses. “I had assumed you wouldn’t bother seeing me today with how busy things are.”

Claude then looks back at Linhardt before pushing himself up from the desk. “Now what makes you think that? Of course, on a day like this, I will come and seek the _ wise counsel _ of the sage Linhardt!”

Linhardt isn’t amused but looks over and meets Claude’s gaze seriously. “Something else is bothering you. You don’t have to tell me, but I’d rather you not try and pretend that isn’t the case.”

Claude sighs and lifts his hands in defeat. “Nothing gets past you, does it?”

Linhardt then stands up and offers Claude a hand. “I would rather not have to carry you, so let's be off before you pass out.”

“Wherever are we off too?” Claude asks, taking Linhardt’s hand and pulling himself to his feet.

“My bedroom, if you find that agreeable.”

Claude meets Linhardt’s gaze with a look between wonder and amusement. “You bet it is,” Claude then squeezes Linhardt’s hand and leans in for a peck on the cheek. Linhardt’s face becomes somehow, even more of a brilliant shade of crimson.

Once he pulls away, however, Claude releases Linhardt’s hand, giving them a grin before striding around the table and gesturing towards the door to the library with a grandiose bow. Linhardt regards Claude with a neutral expression while obliging and leading the way. 

Claude was used to being stared at, that much was obvious. Even Linhardt who often seemed to not give a care about anything else besides his crest research was unable to exist around Claude without becoming aware of the rumours and scrutiny that was placed upon him. And so Linhardt had been flattered and touched when Claude had escorted him back to the dining hall that night and had been so openly affectionate.

Even if Linhardt could not yet hope to fully read Claude, it was obvious that something was wrong in the way that Claude was looking around himself, in how he was walking in close lockstep with Linhardt but all but making sure that their hands didn’t touch. Linhardt kept pondering this, watching Claude out of the corner of their eye as they walked together towards the dorms, the sun now setting on the horizon.

Once at the door to Linhardt’s bedroom, Claude stopped and gave a by now customary gesture of ‘after you’. Linhardt obliged but grabbed Claude by the wrist jerking him inside and closing the door behind them. Linhardt then pulled close, examining Claude’s face, placing one hand to cup his cheek.

Claude’s strained expression relaxed slightly and he turned his face to place his lips against Linhardt’s palm. 

Linhardt’s cheeks fill with heat again and he glances away. They are alone now, there is no reason to hold back. Linhardt then steps forward and kisses Claude firmly on the lips. Brief and sweet, Claude’s arms going lazily to rest on Linhardt’s waist. 

Linhardt then pulls away and wordlessly guides Claude over to his bed which is somehow the only part of his room not covered in books and clutter. Claude is still tense, and Linhardt can feel it, although still not knowing what to do about it. Despite this, Claude does lean himself back onto the bed, letting out a heavy sigh.

“At least take your boots off, if not your coat,” Linhardt mutters, taking off his own academy jacket and letting it fall haphazardly to the floor. 

Claude glances over with a small drained sigh, taking off his jacket and kicking his boots to the side. Pushed back up into a sitting position, Claude’s eyes fall on Linhardt again. The late-afternoon sun filtered through the windows, sinking into the white of Linhardt’s uniform blouse and colouring the planes of his face. As Claude watches, Linhardt pulls the white ribbon from his hair, letting it fall free over his shoulders. 

Linhardt then turns to look at Claude. “You said that you liked my hair, did you not?”

Claude can hardly find the words to reply, let alone in the language of Fódlan. The fatigue that has settled in his bones makes it difficult to think clearly, and all that is in his mind in that moment is— Linhardt. This person who was here with him, with whom the fear and isolation that had been seeping into him all day, at the very least felt inconsequential.

_ "Yana’nu kalv alghi’nazh omu..." _

Linhardt lets out a small gasp, and at that moment Claude realises what he had done, what he had said. All day long, Claude had been thinking about his homeland, his people, had even sparred with a fellow pupil of Nader. All day he had kept it all in, tightly sealed and locked away, that painful, scorned part of his life, the constant need to look over his shoulder and not slip up. It had kept him silent, kept him locked deep behind this constructed smile. And yet...now?

“Was that—”

Claude straightens, standing up sharply from the bed while putting on the best smile he could muster. “Look at me, I am so exhausted I’m talking gibberish. I think I best just head back to my own room then—” Claude says, about to leave when he instead finds Linhardt blocking his way. Looking up, Linhardt is gazing down at him with an intensity usually reserved for research and topics of curiosity. And at this moment, that usually charming and endearing intensity instead feels as a sharpened blade against his neck.

“That’s from... _ ‘shiji’mazh un bahil’ _ isn’t it?”

Claude gawks back up at Linhardt, now thoroughly dumbfounded. “Wait—”

“‘So too my heart does sing, of my defeat by the surging sea,’ right?” Linhardt then blinks. “That poem illustrates the author’s feeling of being joyfully defeated by his feelings for his lover, why then would you—” Linhardt pauses, meeting Claude’s eyes again as the realisation seemed to hit him. “Oh....”

Claude gives a noise of disbelief, running one of his hands through his hair. “I bet you’ve known for a while, huh? That little stunt during our chess game, with the Almyran pawn move?”

Linhardt furrows their brow. “‘Stunt’? I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You must have been taunting me, right? Wanted me to know, that you knew. I get it, Linhardt, you’re a smart guy. Of course, you would figure it out.”

“Claude, you’re not making any sense.”

“But my mumbled line of poetry did?”

“Well, yes. I spent hours going over that poem, trying to figure it out, it’s not going to leave my mind that easily.”

“Linhardt, stop messing around,” Claude growls slightly. “What do you want? What do I have to do for you to keep quiet?”

“Claude, do you want to leave right now? Is that what you’re saying?”

Claude shakes his head. This is what he deserved, wasn’t it? He had let his guard down, gotten careless and gotten too close. Hilda and the rest of the golden deer would surely find out, and then they would trust him even less than before. So much for a fresh start, so much for finding allies and working towards his dream.

“Claude,” Linhardt begins. “I tried to get your attention earlier, in the courtyard after class, but you were distracted by something, what was that?”

Claude pauses before responding, meeting Linhardt’s gaze, seeing in it nothing but that straight-forward honesty that Claude had come to know. There was no reason to evade this question. “I was watching Ser Anara, Sister Luzia’s bodyguard. She was talking to one of the knights. I wanted to speak to her when she was done.”

Linhardt presses his lips together. “I remember hearing several students saying such ridiculous things about her. Even some trying to suggest that her being Almyran would make her unfit to guard a Bishop,” Linhardt pauses. “I have heard rumours about you as well, being untrustworthy and suspicious. Is that what this is about? You do not wish me to speak of you being Almyran?”

Claude lets his eyes fall closed, the tension in his shoulders having spread to his jaw and hands. “Yeah, that’s exactly it.”

“But, isn’t it obvious?”

Claude lets out a strained laugh. “Maybe to you it is, but not everyone is so observant and attentive.”

“I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you wish. Although I never had any intention to. “

Claude lets out another dry laugh, this one a bit closer to genuine mirth. “You are really a fascinating guy, aren’t you?”

One of Linhardt’s hands reaches out to cling to the hem of Claude’s shirt. Only now does Linhardt seem to notice that the sleeveless undershirt leaves much more of Claude’s arms and shoulders exposed than he has seen before. “If you want to leave right now, I won’t stop you but…” Linhardt pauses. “I, for one do not wish for you to leave. I want you to stay.” Linhardt then glances up and finds that Claude is gazing back at him. Expression not quite fully unreadable, there is something like gratitude just visible there behind the stress.

Claude then suddenly wraps his arms around Linhardt, pressing his face into the mage’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of his hair and skin. “Yeah, I don’t want to go either,”

  
  
  



	6. Mortal Curiosity Part I

17th of Red Wolf Moon, 1180

Linhardt had awoken the next morning in a tangle of limbs, a head of tousled curly hair tickling his face. That alone had been enough to wake him up it seemed. Claude had clung, tight to Linhardt, in a way that he was not entirely sure how to describe. He seemed just so scared. Linhardt having never been the most skilled at empathy struggled to understand. But in that moment, it did not seem as though any further words were needed from Linhardt.

The look upon Claude’s face, when Linhardt had told him to stay…that appeared to be enough. And now, Claude was curled up with Linhardt, squeezed onto the tiny academy bed. It was quite nice. Frankly, Linhardt could not remember a time where he had shared a bed like this apart from with Caspar when they were younger. The warmth certainly feels different, but no less comforting. Claude smells quite pleasantly, and his sleeping face is quite adorable. 

In a moment like this, Linhardt can easily forget that they are not even officially dating as of yet, that Claude’s feelings for Linhardt could at the moment purely be that of gratitude. Linhardt looks down at that sleeping face, turning towards the wall where Claude sleeps facing outward. Linhardt reaches out a hand and lightly places two fingers to that braid that now lays draped across Claude’s cheekbone. Fascinating, Linhardt thinks. One needs only read more than a few Almyran texts to know about their warrior braid tradition. Although Claude’s is small and rather cute, it was still a perplexing thing to behold.

Slowly, Claude’s eyes flutter open, his thick eyelashes catching the sunlight and appearing almost an amber hue. Perhaps still trapped in a dreamlike haze, Claude reaches out a hand and cups Linhardt’s cheek. His own fingers trace down their cheek and begin to play with Linhardt’s hair. 

“Your hair is so beautiful, Linhardt,” Claude says, oddly unprompted. “You should wear it down more often.”

Linhardt’s lips pull down into a small pout as he glances away. “You already said as much last night, no need to repeat yourself.”

Claude lets out a soft laugh. “Oh, did I? Apologies. I would never want to waste my liege’s time with inane repetition.” Claude’s hand started to thread through the shorter fringe around Linhardt’s face. “I almost didn’t realise your hair was that long, what with short bob you have going on. I’ve always wondered, an interesting hair choice,”

Linhardt’s expression suddenly shifts from light indignation to something closer to true annoyance. “It’s just hair,” Linhardt replies, clearly bristling enough for Claude to notice. That causes Claude to pull back his hand just as Linhardt’s falls away as well. 

Linhardt was always mysterious, but this was particularly interesting. Had Linhardt been ridiculed for long hair? No, long hair was common among both men and women in Fódlan. Claude honestly didn’t have any other clues, apart from how the ends of the bob appeared to be rather frayed and uneven, but that didn’t….

At that moment, a sharp knock is heard on the door to Linhardt’s room, causing Claude to jolt. Linhardt, however, turns back towards the door, not seeming at all concerned. “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” Bileth’s voice replies, and Claude’s face fills with another shock of panic. 

Linhardt’s eyebrows raise. “Professor Bileth...?” His surprise is evident in his voice. But Veles, of course, couldn’t call through the door as reliably. 

“I know you aren’t in my class but,” he pauses. “I am actually looking for Claude, and thought you might know where he is.”

Claude jolts again, sitting up straight with a look very near to that of complete panic. Oh, of course, someone saw them. Rumours were already swirling, it was beyond obvious how close they were, his whole class was hardly able to keep composed whenever Linhardt was so much as mentioned around him. It was mortifying, exposing and stressful. What on earth was he doing? Sure Linhardt was fascinating, attractive— gentle, kind, alluring, understanding, nonjudgemental—

But! This was— This was bad. Claude was here to create allies, connections, not acquire a huge vulnerability. Despite everything— Linhardt was basically just a friend, right? A very…wonderful and close friend. And as of now, the only person besides Anara who for sure knew of his nationality. This could get very perilous extremely quickly and Claude needed a solution. Not to the whole Linhardt situation no, he needed a way right out of this very current predicament.

Linhardt gives a performative scoff. “Now, why would I know where Claude is?” Was Linhardt going to cover for him? That would be great but Bileth clearly already knew. 

“Ah,” Claude can just picture the small frown most likely forming on his professor’s face. “Forgive me if I overstepped. If you do see him, please tell him he is wanted for a meeting down at the classrooms.”

Claude’s breathing is starting to come a little faster. He wasn’t in any immediate…lethal danger, but the sensation of being out of control of a situation never quite sat well with him. 

“Message received,” Linhardt replies, punctuated with a yawn. 

Bileth pauses before replying. “I do hope that you still make it to classes, Linhardt. Veles will be sad otherwise.”

Linhardt pauses, this statement appearing to affect him, even if only slightly. “I was not intending to skip, so please, inform your sister.”

“Right then, I will be on my way. Your assistance is appreciated.” Bileth’s footsteps then fade away outside, causing Claude to force out a heavy sigh.

Linhardt glances his way, face blank but his posture leaning towards Claude ever-so-slightly. “My apologies, perhaps we should have been more discrete.” Despite Claude clearly needing some sort of comfort or assurance, in the moment Linhardt is at a loss for what to do. Usually, he follows Claude’s cues, or goes on instinct. And right now, he is not finding any leads.

“No…Linhardt,” Claude lets out a heavy sigh. “You’re fine,” he moves the blankets off of himself, to which Linhardt responds by getting up from the bed in turn. They begin straightening themselves up, walking to opposite ends of the room. Claude for his part, just throws on his jacket and prepares to leave and finish the job in his own room. “I’ll give you some privacy okay? I’ll…see you around later.”

Linhardt turns back and makes to stop Claude from leaving. “I will take that as a promise,” Linhardt confirms, lightly brushing their fingers against the inside of Claude’s wrist.

Claude gives Linhardt a weak smile. “Understood,” Claude then takes a hold of Linhardt’s hand and places it briefly to his lips. “For now, I too must take my leave. The duties of my house leadership await me.”

Linhardt’s eyes fall over Claude carefully, examining but not yet fully understanding. They feel somehow both close and yet also distant, there’s intimacy here, but also a certain coldness. Linhardt does not wish to let Claude go without this becoming resolved, but it would appear that he has no choice. 

Linhardt squeezes his Claude’s hand before they let go. Standing back, he then watches Claude leave without another change in expression. In truth, Linhardt does not know at all how he should feel at this moment. Perhaps instead, he would find more peace in thinking about everything but the enigma that is Claude von Riegan.

Left alone to his own thoughts, Linhardt pulls on a fresh change of clothes and puts the hair ribbon back into place around the longer section of his hair. He pulls it forward over his shoulder, fingers lingering for a moment. Claude had said it was beautiful….beautiful. No, no more time for such trivialities. Although in truth Linhardt scarcely had any idea what he would do with himself for the time being. 

Edelgard and Claude had a meeting with the Bishop? Of course, he was not invited, and bringing himself along would only cause more issues than it was worth. However, Linhardt was still deeply considering what Flayn had told him. Certainly, it would be most convenient to approach her when there was no one else around. Or would that also give off an unwanted impression…

But regardless, what Linhardt knows now is that he will take that opportunity, as soon as it presents itself. 

Claude makes his way to the classrooms as quickly as he can manage. He has on a fresh uniform and made sure to muss up his hair in the hope that it looked casually tousled and less like he had slept with his face pressed up against an attractive bedfellow until just before now. 

Standing in the courtyard, Claude spots the twin professors, speaking as they often did when it was just the two of them, entirely in signs. Claude had of course learned the Fódlani sign language, as was expected of Fódlan nobility. It was considered a sacred thing, the language of silent monks and the religiously educated. And as it also turned out, very useful for all sorts of tactical communication. But despite his arguably exhaustive knowldge of signs, Claude could swear that when it was just the two of them, he would see more than just a few signs that he did not even recognise. 

Claude lifts a hand in greeting. “I hope I am not interrupting anything,” he says while striding over to them.

Bileth turns and gives Claude the smallest of pleased smiles. An expression change so minute that a few moons back he might not have even noticed. Not entirely unlike someone else Claude is quite familiar with. 

Veles however gives Claude a rather curious and lingering look. Her head tilted to the side as she seemed to be confused by something. Given that she was the black eagles professor, and also somewhat close with Linhardt, he elected to ignore it.

“Sorry if I’m late, I guess I was more tired last night than I realised.”

Bileth frowns. “More likely you just stayed up focused on one of your…hobbies I imagine.”

Claude gives an awkward laugh. “Anyway, Linhardt told me I was needed.”

“Where were you anyway?” Bileth asks, clearly just curious and with no ill intent. 

“I must have just stepped out of my room when you came by,” Claude was thankfully composed, but the combined gazes of both of the Eisners did feel just a bit unnerving. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpses Veles’ hands moving and focuses his eyes on her. 

“You’re very close with Linhardt lately, and that makes me happy. You both seem quite similar,”

Claude gives another nervous chuckle.

Just then, a fourth person comes barreling up from behind the professors, gratefully completely within Claude’s field of view. It’s Hilda, his dutiful assistant who seems less forgiving that Bileth about how late he is. “Claude!” She says, walking up with her arms crossed. “Where were you?”

Claude laughs, throwing up his hands in defeat. “Woe is me who dares insight the wrath of Lady Hilda!”

Hilda continues to frown. “It’s not that, Claude, I was worried about you! Honestly...”

Now that was not a reaction that Claude had anticipated. As intrigued as he is, unfortunately he cannot afford to dive into this anomaly for the moment. At that very moment, Edelgard and Hubert approach from inside the black eagles classroom where they must have been waiting. They share a brief signed greeting with Veles before taking their place.

“Claude,” Hubert begins, to Claude’s mild suprise.

“Good morning to you, Hubert,” he nods. “And to you, Princess.”

They scarcely get their greeting across when Claude’s attention is pricked by yet another approaching pair behind them. From this distance, Claude woud have sworn for a moment that he had glimpsed Rhea. The style of gown and her headdress gave the Bishop a similar profile, but not completely identical. The headpiece is smaller for starters, and her hair is nowhere near the same unearthly light green shade, but instead a richer violet hue that reminds him far too much of his own class’ Lorenz. As his attention is drawn, so too is the attention of his conversation partners.

Luzia approaches past the hedges and under the covered walkway to the northern end of the courtyard. And by her side is of course, the proud Anara. Claude forces his demeanour to relax and gives a short wave in greeting. Anara returns in time, not showing any indication that she intends to act on what she had discovered the night before. Claude will have to speak with her again, confirm what she knows and assure that she doesn't feel the need to share.

“Greetings, lady Bishop,” Claude says with a somewhat grandiose bow as she comes to a stop before their little group. 

The Bishop smiles, an almost stiff smile, as if she were somehow unaccustomed to such a facial movement. But even so, her overall bearing is full of grace and serenity as is seemingly required of the Seiros Clergy. “Greetings, you must be young Claude von Riegan,” she begins before her narrow green eyes slide over to his left. “And Lady Edelgard,” she inclines her head politely. “It is a privilege to finally meet you properly.”

“Likewise, Sister Luzia,” Edelgard’s face too slides into a composed and polite smile. 

Anara stands back to her lady’s right, leaning heavily on one leg with a hand on her hip. Her distinctive appearance is much more apparent to the other students at close range, and she clearly has no intention on downplaying precisely how much she stands out. 

Edelgard continues. “We appreciate taking time out of your pressing duties to meet with us,” she then gestures to their left towards the classrooms. “I understand that you were a Black Eagles student yourself in your youth. I hope then that you will find a meeting in your old classroom to be agreeable.”

Luzia’s expression remains neutral even as she replies. “I have no issue with that. It is not like we must convene in secret, but the courtyard is hardly the best place for a proper discussion.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Edelgard replies. 

The eight of them all gather in the black eagles classroom, Luzia strides forward ahead of them all but gravitating towards the light, facing the tall arched windows at the back of the classroom for a long moment. 

Anara stands promptly at her side with Claude following casually. Hilda and then Bileth form a half circle behind him. With Veles next to her brother, Hubert and Edelgard then also stand on the left side of the classroom, Edelgard however maintaining a noticeable amount of distance between her and the Bishop.

“The Old Chapel…what an unfortunate title it has accrued,” Luzia begins with a heavy sigh. “During my time at the academy, it was actually quite a common gathering place for students. perhaps in a way that was not approved by the church staff, however.”

“Really? Now how about that,” Claude replies. “But I’ve heard also that it was just a regular chapel used by the townsfolk long ago.”

Edelgard nods. “Indeed, I have been curious as to why it fell out of use, the structure does not appear to be damaged in any sort of lethally dangerous way.”

Luzia’s face hardens minutely and she only moves her eyes to Edelgard, not shifting her posture nor even moving her head. 

“As you clearly already know, lady Edelgard, while the monastery and the surrounding villages are rather isolated, the most immediate major power is that of the Adrestian empire,” she moves her eyes back away. “And I do not think I need to repeat to you the several incidents of unrest that have occurred in those lands in the last 13 years alone.”

To some, that specific timeframe might seem odd. To the casual onlooker, the most obvious source of turmoil would be the Insurrection of the Seven which had occurred 9 years prior. And indeed, to Edelgard that alone had been such a world-shattering event that hardly anything else could ever hope to compare. Despite Edelgard’s own shake memories of the years before then, she knew exactly what Luzia meant to convey. Perhaps, Luzia, the stalwart Bishop who claims to have abandoned all claims to nobility and connections to her family was not nearly as detached as she would like to appear. 

“Indeed you do not. Such casualties often arise in times of unrest.”

Claude all the while is watching the exchange extremely closely. Edelgard seems as stiff and guarded as ever, but he noticed just the slightest reaction when that timeframe was mentioned. Claude, on the other hand, has more of a dim overall understanding of Imperial politics. He has no lead as to Luzia’s true identity as Edelgard does, but he does have a clue in the fact that Luzia clearly despises Edelgard for one reason or another. That is something tangible, current, that Claude can hold onto. It doesn’t matter who their fathers were or what wars they fought, what matters now is how their current interactions will play out. 

“You plan to restore the Chapel I hear? Such acts of charity are to be expected of a future anointed Bishop,” Claude says, perhaps a bit too obviously attempting to ease the tension. 

Luzia turns to look at Claude, her face steely and unreadable again, Edelgard however remains composed and focused on the Bishop.

“Indeed,” Luzia replies. “It is my primary concern. Restoring such a sacred and long-lived place shall serve to illustrate my intentions with the Eastern Church.”

”Very fitting then, indeed.” Claude very much wanted to know about these ‘intentions’ as it were, but the task at hand was the mission.

Edelgard then takes that opportunity to get things back on track.

”If you would be so kind, Sister Luzia,” her voice is calm, but oh how Claude wishes to know what it sealed beneath. “We would appreciate a briefing on what you expect from us as out security.”

Luzia nods. “Of course, I will tell you all that you need to know.”

Claude suppresses a grin. Secretive, this one. If only he had the opportunity to poke and prod at that wall of serenity she so carefully upholds. Claude cannot help but have the passing thought, remembering that Linhardt had shown interest in her as well. Later, Claude thinks, he will have to ask Linhardt what he knows. Together, surely, they would leave no mystery left to be solved. 

**23rd of Red Wolf Moon**

Linhardt knew that he would not be chosen for the mission from the very beginning. And as such, he had no reason to be upset about it. But in reality, this was in fact the opportunity he had hoped for. He woke up late, well after he knew everyone else would be at breakfast or training. But what he also knew from what he caught in class the day before was that Luzia would be in the Chapel the whole day performing her meditation and preparations for the Ascension. Being who he was, someone with no real regard for religion or suspicion, he legitimately saw no issue in approaching her in this time and so simply headed that way.

The chapel was old, obviously, but so was the entire monastery. Linhardt finds his fascination drawn to the old architecture, the antiquated symbols that he had just barely learned how to grasp. He had glimpsed many things like this on that cursedly short time down in the holy tomb, but alas, once again, Linhardt had no time to dawdle. 

It was hardly past noon, but in the late fall the sun was already on its way below the horizon. Entering the grand hall, Linhardt sees a distant figure, framed in the stained glass behind the Dias at the southern end. He lifts a hand to shield his eyes, the gold accents of his uniform honestly only causing him more trouble.

“Sister Luzia?” Linhardt’s calm voice rings out across the chapel, bouncing from stone floor to decrepit ceiling, and finally to her ears.

Luzia turns around, slowly, gracefully, the sunbeams leaking out around her silhouette, keeping her face long obscured. 

Linhardt squints and keeps his arms raised as he continues to approach. “I was wondering if I might ask for a moment of your time.”

Luzia smiles once again in a way that does not fully affect her face, Linhardt, either does not notice, or simply thinks nothing of it. “You are a student, I see. Which class are you from?”

“An interesting question, does my national origin concern you?”

Luzia then fully turns towards him, blocking out the sun, her figure almost completely shrouded. “I am merely curious.” 

Despite the overall resemblance, Luzia however does not mince her words in the infuriating way that Rhea often did, this, Linhardt can appreciate. The few times Linhardt had heard Rhea speak, he hadn’t even found it dull, merely...unnerving. Linhardt however, somewhat surprisingly, does not feel the same kind of creeping pressure from Luzia, at least, not as of yet. 

Linhardt continues. “I will skip to the full introduction then. First of all, I know which family you hail from in the empire, and as of such, you may have reason to be wary of me. I am Linhardt von Hevring, heir to the countship and ministerial position that name obliges me to.” Linhardt has no interest in deception, if she would not speak to him because of his position, there was no point in prolonging it, as she would eventually cut him off upon discovery. It was better to be rejected entirely than acquire partial information on false pretences.

Luzia’s shoulder’s stiffen minutely. “I appreciate you being forthright with me, young Linhardt. I can see that you are straight-forward in how you conduct yourself,” she cracks a minuscule smile. “For my part, I will admit, I have heard your name a few times, since arriving here. Professor Hanneman, mentioned your promise as an aspiring Crest Scholar,” she pauses. “And Seteth, also mentioned you.”

Linhardt nods. “You need not go into details about that, I can guess his opinion of me.”

“Digging around among documents deemed to be unfit for public consumption by the Seneschal, you clearly have something that you are after.”

“I simply have a few questions I would like to have answered by you. If you have a moment,”

“I clearly have many moments to spare.”

Linhardt remains silent for a moment. He usually has difficulty reading people, but for some reason, he felt almost as if…

Suddenly, a sound, like the cracking of a large boulder colliding with the marble floor. Luzia’s posture becomes alert and Linhardt visibly winces. Then, another crash, and then another, a long scraping noise followed finally by a deafening roar.

The clashing of steel rings our across the training grounds, regular and rhythmic, nothing out of place. If anything, a silent atmosphere would be the more concerning state of affairs. 

With the ceremony not long off, the house leaders and professors of the Deer and Eagle classes have gathered their students together in the training grounds. It would be necessary to learn how to work with one another on a joint mission such as this. And given their twin professors, such assignments seemed increasingly likely.

Veles, the black eagles professor focused on the magic users, with her hands free of weapons, she could sign freely in the place of the words she was so rarely even able to speak. Her brother Bileth then took up the weapon instruction, occasionally shouting one of his sister’s thoughts out over to her group. Veles also had an archery specialty, and so occasionally made her way over to observe where Claude and Leonie got in some target practice.

A third addition from the church, was in fact, Ser Anara. She kept mostly to the fringes, observing the students and giving general pointers. She was to help evaluate their skills and know their capabilities for when the day arrived.

Claude, for all his effort, appeared as focused as he could be on the task at hand, which in reality, was not focused at all. He had to keep an eye on all the golden deer members, but also spare enough attention for his own training. But a fair few thoughts kept crowding into his mind. Is Anara watching him? Does Hilda know about her origins yet? Has Hilda maybe put more clues together? Hilda seems her usual self today, but she’s as good an actress as they come. Why wasn’t Linhardt at breakfast or his dorm this morning?—

“Claude?” The voice startles Claude from his daze, just as the arrow he had loosed made contact with it’s target. Claude lets out a heavy sigh, and then turns to face Hilda with the best smile he could muster. “Lady Goneril, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I was just wondering if you’re feeling okay, since you seem a bit more distracted than usual.”

As casually fond of Hilda as Claude had become in their months together, at the moment, she was quite frankly the last person he wanted to be able to read him. But, honestly it couldn’t be helped. As his assistant, she had grown used to his mannerisms, ostensibly with the goal of being more useful.

“More than usual, huh? What are you saying that my head is always in the clouds?” Nodding to Leonie, Claude walks forwards to collect his arrows from the target. Indeed, a few more had missed the bullseye than Claude would have liked.

Hilda frowns. “Honestly you’ve been acting weird since the Bishop and her entourage showed up.”

Claude gives a huff, avoiding her gaze as he walks back to the shooting position. “You’ve seen her since she arrived, I was with you when we did. Quite the looker that one. I’m sure even those not expected to keep her alive can’t stop thinking about her.”

“Yeah, she’s drop-dead gorgeous, sure,” Hilda shrugs.

“And it’s our job to make sure that your description doesn’t become literal,” Claude replies with a wink.

Hilda shakes her head. “But what I’m really talking about is you and ser Anara? You’ve been spending a lot of time with her lately.”

Claude carefully evaluates her tone before replying. She isn’t jealous, or merely curious. In fact, he can detect just a hint of concern and suspicion lately. 

“She is our point-person on this whole mission.”

Hilda frowns, appearing to be genuinely concerned, like she had been a few days prior. “Look, I don’t get it. I didn’t mention it at the time because I figured you didn’t want anyone to know but,” she sighs, meeting his eyes and for the moment Claude can’t look away. “You looked seriously freaked out when I first saw you with her,” her brows crease and her gaze is unwavering. “Did she like...say something to you? Does she know your family?”

Claude gives a huff and finally tears his eyes away. “I’m touched that you care so much but I promise I was fine. I just bit off more than I could chew and she was totally wiping the floor with me in our spar.” That was also in fact true, but no need to acknowledge how she had also been spot on with her assessment. 

Hilda lets out a laugh. “To be honest when I first saw you two together you moved so flawlessly I could have sworn you two were old friends. Just like my brother and his best friend,” her face grows momentarily nostalgic and Claude pounces.

“Oh? A friend to the renowned alliance general Holst Vaughn Goneril?”

Hilda’s frown fills now with irritation rather than concern. “Claude, don’t change the subject! If you didn’t know her growing up, maybe you’re distantly related instead—” she then cuts herself off mid thought and brushes it off mid-laugh. “Oh wait no, she’s Almyran, there’s no way you two could be related.”

Whatever clever words and schemes he might have been thinking of die in his throat. He doesn’t reply, merely drawing and arrow and firing it deep into the heart of the training target before them. 

The doors to the training hall suddenly burst open. Catherine strides in, her usually easy demeanour once again firm and sharp as the relic slung across her back. Most pay no heed to this, but Anara, who had been standing nearby, takes notice immediately.

Catherine walks forward, making solemn eye contact with her fellow knight. Claude and Edelgard, seeing this scene, walk over with a joint brisk pace, their assistants close behind just as before. 

“Good, I’m glad I found you. There’s a pretty serious situation going down.” Catherine says, her voice low to Anara at first. 

“You’ve gotta give me a bit more detail than that.” Anara replies, her brows creasing slightly as she begins to anticipate the grim news.

Catherine presses her lips together. “I think I’d better give everyone the info all at once.”

She turns back towards the group, all of the students now having gathered in a small throng along with the Eisners. 

“Professors,” Catherine acknowledges. Several other students, including Flayn and Hilda began to gather, Catherine takes in a sharp breath. “We’ve got a problem. There’s been an attack on the Chapel.”

The news hits the group in a swift burst, faces reflecting shock or concern. Anara however, remains completely stoic, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Claude is the first to speak up, his face relatively composed. “I don’t suppose we get to know anything about what’s going down? Or are we just supposed to stay holed up here until further orders.”

Catherine gives Claude a rather neutral glance, lingering for a moment as if evaluating him.

“Unfortunately even I do not have all the details. I had a couple panicked reports, not much to go off of. But the gist of it is that Luzia and at least one student are trapped in the Chapel. The reason being that a whole swarm of demonic beasts showed up out of nowhere.”

This, is also met with a wave of grim expressions, Edelgard in particular however remaining stony-faced as one fist clenches by her side. “Do you know the identity of the student that Sister Luzia was with?”

Flayn, mysteriously tenses up, watching Catherine expectantly as if hanging on her every word. 

Catherine however responds to Edelgard directly, her face grave. “I don’t know for sure, but one of my subordinates said that she let Linhardt pass by earlier, assuming he was doing something for the ceremony.”

Veles now visibly reacts, her usually placid face going taut with shock. Flayn, additionally reacts even further, her concern only growing as she had anticipated this to be the case from the first mention of a student being with the Bishop.

Bileth notices his student’s shift in demeanour. “Flayn? Is there something that you know?”

She shifts nervously. “Yes, unfortunately. I fear that I may be responsible. If Linhardt went to the chapel, then it must be because I encouraged him to do so.”

“We cannot be certain that it is where Linhardt went, or where he even still is,” Edelgard replies evenly. “Regardless, I would hardly call it your fault, Flayn.”

Claude gives a wry smirk. “Well how about that. It looks like on top of guard duty we might have a rescue mission on our hands.”

Edelgard glances briefly to Claude before replying. “This is precisely what we were preparing for, and so , the selected black eagles stand ready at your command.”

Catherine shakes her head. “You guys need to stay here. The knights will handle it.”

Claude lets out a huff before forcing his expression to slide towards a confident grin. “What? Don’t think we can handle it? We managed to get one step ahead back when the archbishop with threatened, I dare say we deserve at least a crack at this one.” Hilda as well as a few others give Claude a few brief glances, perhaps anticipating a reaction to Linhardt’s potential peril, but finding none.

Catherine makes a face that is almost showing sympathy, or perhaps pity. “Sorry, this isn’t my call, these orders come directly from her Holiness.” Military orders from the Archbishop were not unprecedented in reality, but unexpected to most of the students present. 

Catherine then gives another brief apologetic glance around the crowd before readying to leave. Anara clearly moves to accompany her, but Catherine stops her with a firm hand on her left shoulder.

“Anara,” Catherine says, making sure to look her colleague directly int he eyes. “I have to get back to my post. Unfortunately, your orders are to stay with the students.” This was the original plan, Anara was always going to lead the students on their mission to protect Luzia. But now, this suggestion clearly does not sit well with the eastern knight.

“Orders received, Ser.”

Catherine gives Anara a meaningful look before clapping her gauntlet on the other woman’s shoulder finally makes her exit. With the holy knight and her complement gone, the attention instead shifts to Anara who does not even begin to relax. 

Anara’s face splits into a cracked sort of half-grin. “Well, I guess you kids are waiting for my orders, huh?” She strides away from the entry and walks over to where her sheathed sword had been set down. “I’ll admit, I was looking forward to seeing what you kids could do, but, I’m afraid it’s not going to work out quite like we planned.” Anara then slings her sword up on her shoulder and makes for the exit. 

“Ser Anara, you can’t possibly intend to—” a flummoxed student pleads.

She gives the students a wide grin. “Look, I might be a Knight, but my mission is to protect Luzia above all else,” she pauses. “And that’s a mission I would complete even if it meant cutting down Rhea herself.”

That statement truly silences the students, many in a state of disbelief. However, two particular house leaders at the front of the group instead find that they both gain a new respect for the unconventional Knight.

Just as she is about to leave, one last voice rings out. 

“Wait!” Bileth calls, catching Anara’s attention as he could see that his sister wanted to speak to her. 

Anara does turn back, glancing from Bileth then to Veles and giving her full attention.

Veles’ face has not yet fully calmed from earlier, the creases of distress still pulling at her lips and brows. “My student is in danger. Please let me go with you.”

Anara keeps her gaze. “By all means. I’m not going to stop you if you want to follow me. They told you all to stay put because it’s going to be shamefully easy to stay put, what with all the knights busy. They expected me to babysit you,” she shrugs. “If you want to save your student, come with me, I’ll get you there.”

Veles nods herself, lurching forward to follow Anara. Bileth, without question runs after his sister, and so too comes Claude, Edelgard, and the rest of the students. Soon they empty out into the campus which is eerily quiet save for a distant monster’s roar just barely audible in the distance.

‘I’ll find him...’ Claude thinks to himself. ‘He has to be safe, no matter what.’ The thoughts bubble up unbidden as he follows and prepares for battle. Amidst the preparation, once again he can at least pretend to ignore it, but as the glances of life and death swings further to each extreme, the truth that Claude tries so hard to deny will soon become unable to be kept sealed away.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So glad to finally get this one out! The planned events for chapter 5 ended up being split into this and the next chapter, things are really kicking off and I am really excited about what’s to come. Stay tuned~


	7. Mortal Curiosity Part II

Darkness, complete oppressive black that feels as though it weighs upon the mind, seeping into every corner of his consciousness. His eyes are closed, his body unmoving, but his mind is sliding back into waking, even as oblivion does everything in its power to drag him back down.

The memories are faded, but Linhardt is able to recall bits and pieces. A woman—Luzia, the old chapel. They were in the middle of something when all at once that peaceful image shattered. Countless shards that bloom and fly out from just beyond his fingertips. And no, it is not the harmless dispersal of an image, not the scattering of flowers to the breeze; it hurts.

The shards fly out and imbed themselves in every part of his body. Blinding licks of pain blossom from each point, like the tapered tear of a beast’s claw. It burns, throbs, sears; every possible word Linhardt can think to describe it. But then, as suddenly as it had started, it all melted away.

“Did you see anyone that way? No?”

“The atrium is ruined, but I found no bodies.”

“Then keep searching!”

The sound fades in, as if a distant reverberating echo until it builds into something too loud to ignore. The voices are human, some familiar, and others less so. Following the sound, his mind is pulled back into his body, where he is at least now aware that he is lying down, splayed out on a cold stone floor. They are searching for someone, likely for the Bishop. He would hate to give them false hope, but he has little other choice.

“Help…” his voice comes out small and low. He can hear that the group has split up, one set of footsteps thankfully coming his way. Linhardt tries to move, pushes himself up with one arm but falls back with a heavy thud. He lets out a yelp, perhaps that sound is enough to draw attention, but he has little hope.

“Linhardt! Linhardt!”

Prying his eyes open again, he sees a familiar face, etched in shadows, pulled taut in near horror. It’s Claude, his frantic gaze fixated on Linhardt’s face. “Linhardt! Oh, thank the gods.” Claude had brought with him a magical torch that now laid beside them, light flickering over the planes of Claude’s face.

Linhardt gives Claude a quizzical look. “What are you doing here?”

Claude lets out a disbelieving huff. “That’s one way to treat your rescuer,” he doesn’t seem offended, however, simply…relieved? Glancing behind him, Linhardt can see similar lights flickering about the atrium.

Claude then turns back as well. “Hey! I found Linhardt over here, we need some help!” Claude then turns back, leaning forward as if wanting to help but something appears to stop him. “Linhardt, try your best not to panic, okay?” his emerald eyes dart down across Lin’s body, seeming to make an effort not to linger.

Linhardt continues to give Claude a puzzled look. “You simply saying that makes me think that I must have reason to panic.”

Claude swallows, finally letting his restless hands lay on the floor next to the mage. “Linhardt. Do you remember what happened to you?”

Linhardt furrows their brow. “I came here to speak with Luzia. And then all of a sudden—” Linhardt feels a bout of sudden dizziness hit him and his words cut off.

Claude then leans forward again, peering into Linhardt’s face. “How long have you been awake? Have you…gotten a chance to check yourself over?”

Linhardt manages to keep his eyes open to give Claude another confused look. “No? I have not.”

Claude then lifts up the torch, his face grave, the light falling over Linhardt’s body. His uniform is not merely roughed up, rather it is all but completely torn asunder. The deep gashes reveal torn edges of his white undershirt, now stained a dark, festering red. Although the skin below appears unmarred, this is more than enough to overwhelm Linhardt with nausea, forcing his eyes closed as he reels.

But even with his eyes closed, his senses continue to absorb far too much. The lights assault his eyelids, and he can hear Claude shifting next to him. Perhaps Claude is finally leaving, moving to make room for the coming aid. But just as Linhardt thinks this, he suddenly feels a delightfully familiar scent wash over him.

Opening his eyes just slightly, Linhardt instead sees Claude crouched over him, having removed his own jacket it to drape it over Linhardt. Claude’s movements, however, are somewhat jerking and slow, and Linhardt notices how his left arm stays limp while his right arm alone goes about the business of tucking the coat around Linhardt’s shoulders.

“Claude— are you alright?”

Claude grimaces, sitting back and pulling his right arm back into his lap. “Linhardt, I promise I’m fine. Don’t you worry about me,”

Just as Linhardt was about to reply, another ring of light approaches, revealing three more figures. Seeming at least slightly relieved, Claude then rests back on his haunches. He lets out a heavy sigh, placing his head in his hands. Edelgard stood at the fore, her face as stony as ever, the low light colouring her silver hair an unearthly hue.

“Linhardt…so you were here after all?” Her expression softens ever so slightly as she moves forward, kneeling by Linhardt’s side.

Linhardt squints at Edelgard before squeezing his eyes shut. “I am in fact…alive, however—” he grimaces again.

Edelgard takes in Linhardt’s state, the tails of Claude’s coat not being enough to cover the state of Linhardt’s legs. “Claude, what did you notice when you first found Linhardt?”

Claude keeps his face turned away. “It looked like monster claws. There was dried blood on his clothes, but I didn’t see any open wounds.”

Edelgard then turns back to Linhardt.

“I…I must have been healed, I can feel it. I am not in pain, but I have been unable to get up on my own.”

“I see,” Edelgard nods solemnly again. “Regardless, we must get you to the infirmary.” She hands Hubert her axe and slides both hands under the spindly mage and hoists him into her arms.

Linhardt lets eyes fall closed again, the sudden movement not helping his Then, at that moment, Linhardt feels something, a warm hand upon his cheek, it forms a sign that is familiar. He wants to open his eyes, but can’t. The Professor....she—

Darkness overtakes him again.

Claude however, lags behind. He stands there for a moment, face in his hands, the torch flickering and dying out at his feet. Edelgard calls out and informs the others that Linhardt has been found, which is by relief from the rest of their companions. Claude’s heart is still racing, breathing ragged, as he fights to calm down. Linhardt is fine, he’s safe, there was no need to be this wound up. Frankly, was there ever any need for such a response? It wasn’t like Claude’s feelings were anything as dramatic as—

He hears approaching steps and reacts far too slowly. Was he really going soft after all? By the time he looks up, the other had already come upon him and he sees Hilda there, staring back at him.

Claude simply does not have anything for her. As enjoyable as he had often found her, in truth, he had begun to avoid her as of late, cut their conversations short, make excuses not to be alone with her as often. Especially how blatantly evasive Claude had been that day, surely all Hilda had for him would be harsh words and a dismissive reprimand.

Claude perhaps gives away this anticipation with his shoulders tense and his eyes not meeting hers. Hilda, however, persists with what she herself came to do.

“Hey,” Hilda begins, her voice far warmer than Claude could have ever hoped. “You really look like you could use a hug right now.”

Claude almost tries to crack a grin, throw out a joke or a huff or something, but he can’t. Even the renowned master tactician Claude von Riegan has his limits. Instead, Claude simply nods, holds out his arms and lets Hilda pull him close.

Like this, Claude can almost forget everything, and for a moment perhaps he even does. Hilda’s embrace is profoundly comforting in this time, he holds on a little tighter than he would want, his fingers digging into the back of her shirt. He’s clinging on to everything he has built here, everything as “Claude von Riegan”, the heir to a dukedom. Hilda has always been a huge part of that, by his side through everything up until now. But even as he had tried so cleverly to hint, there was something very real that could come between even just a friendship.

The way Hilda had regarded Anara with suspicion since she arrived, how Hilda had even asserted that no, clearly, Claude couldn’t be Almyran himself. What does that mean? Just because he doesn’t fit that monstrous, brutish image of the ‘eastern menace’ that Goneril’s Daughter surely knew well. He wants to get closer, hold her a little tighter, he even thought about perhaps taking her to a secret spot to kiss under a tree while sunset filters through the leaves. But, nothing would hurt more than if whatever they built together was taken away.

If she suddenly turned and hated him because of where he was born, in a way, he wouldn’t even be able to blame her. As far as she’s concerned, making nice with an Almyran is like trying to befriend a demonic beast, something incomprehensible. But if she could just take that extra step, passing over that crumbling wall, if she could just try to understand—

“That better?” Hilda asks, her lips all but flush against his ear. Her breath causes him to shudder involuntarily and he pulls back, face plastered with a goofy grin. “Thanks Hilda...honestly I think that is exactly what I needed.”

* * *

Edelgard carries Linhardt to the infirmary, Veles and Hubert close behind. The rest of the Eagles and the Deer continuing to help with the search.

Upon approaching the infirmary, Edelgard pauses when she hears rapid footsteps.

Flayn all but bursts out of the room, her concerned expression changing to one of near horror. “Linhardt! Oh goodness, please no—”

“He is alive,” Edelgard replies, nodding and waiting for Flayn to move out of the way.

Flayn then quickly scurries back into the student infirmary, rushing to prepare the far bed.

Edelgard lays Linhardt down on the empty bed, Flayn moving to the other side with Veles and Hubert remaining by her side.

Flayn, as the experienced healer goes ahead removes Claude’s jacket, freezing in place when she sees the extent of the damage.

Edelgard’s face goes grim as she sees the rest of the claw marks, but additionally the large amount of exposed, and almost hauntingly unmarred skin. “Flayn,” she continues. “I will, unfortunately, need to speak with Linhardt once he awakens. Either I or someone else will need to know what they witnessed.”

Flayn nods, finally finding the will to move. She moves Claude’s jacket to hang over a nearby chair and then moves to get her needed supplies.

Veles’ hands then move, her gaze still locked on the sleeping Linhardt. “You can care for Linhardt, right Flayn?”

Flayn nods with a burst of determination. “Of course. And if you would be so kind,” she glances nervously to the furled screen near the bed. “I will need to clean and provide Linhardt with some fresh clothes.”

Edelgard nods. “Of course, we will be out of your way then,” Edelgard turns to Hubert, giving him a meaningful glance, one that’s meaning was surely lost on all others present.

Hubert gives a minute nod, gesturing to Veles to join them in leaving the infirmary. Veles complies, but not without one last glance back at Linhardt.

Once the other three are left, Flayn lets out a shaky breath. Logically, she understands, this is not her fault. But, perhaps because he is one of those who bears her crest, she cannot help but feel...responsible for him? Beyond the fact that her suggestion leads him to this...

Of course, Flayn was not the one that reduced Linhardt to this state. At least there had been someone nearby to heal him, that alone likely saved his life.

Flayn sighs and places the washbasin, rags and fresh linens on the table next to Linhardt before walking over to pull the screen out to give Linhardt some privacy. Turning back around, she had begun to idly hum a tune to herself to begin her work. Just as she moved to start, Flayn’s eyes then fell on Linhardt’s face, who was now staring right back her.

Flayn lets out a small yelp but quickly calms herself. Something about that eerie gaze, just opening his eyes without so much as a greeting or even a grunt. “Linhardt? Are you conscious?”

Linhardt blinks slowly and lets out a sigh. “It would appear so. I thought for a moment that I might still be dreaming.”

Flayn gives Linhardt a small warm smile. “That you are not, Linhardt. You are awake and in safe hands now.”

Linhardt holds Flayn’s gaze again before glancing away, his eyes falling over his still extremely ragged state, and then to the coat hanging over the chair next to them. “Claude...”

“Oh, of course, that is Claude’s jacket!” It was rather obvious with the house leader’s insignia and the yellow cape. “Strange, he did not arrive here with Edelgard and the others.”

Linhardt does not visibly react to this and lets his head rest back against the pillows. Flayn gives Linhardt another glance before lightly clapping her hands together. “Alright then, Linhardt. Since you are awake, you can help me get you changed.”

Linhardt lets out a groan but appears to intend to comply. Flayn moves to help him to a sitting position. If Linhardt had been lucid, he might have noticed how surprisingly firm her grip was despite her slight frame. But Linhardt is still dazed, reeling from lingering nausea, muddled memories and the nagging thoughts of ‘’where is Claude now…is he coming back? Does he even want to see me?’

Seemingly foolish thoughts, given that Claude had run to Linhardt’s side in a panic and had lovingly draped him in his own coat. But given precisely how much of Linhardt’s uniform had been shredded, Claude might have instead been attempting to preserve Linhardt's ‘dignity’, as Flayn also clearly intended to do with the folding screen spread out by his bed.

Linhardt should perhaps be touched by the gestures, but instead it hardly even registers. Linhardt had always failed to see the fuss about covering his own body in certain ways, but he had no reason to rebuke these efforts, as Flayn and the others seemed much more genuinely intent on helping Linhardt.

Linhardt’s leather belt had long since been severed and perhaps dropped somewhere along the way. With that gone, Flayn helps him pull the blazer off each arm, being careful as to not aggravate any lingering muscle soreness. With the coat and blouse gone, the cloth that Linhardt usually lightly bonds around his chest hangs off from where it was sliced but still remains half stuck on with dried blood. This is removed at well, Flayn’s hands working quickly to continue the work.

Once the blood and grime is washed away, Flayn then takes a roll of gauze and pins one end to his back while wrapping it snugly around Linhardt’s chest. Linhardt’s gaze remains distant and vacant, moving accordingly to get his ripped pants off, before gingerly holding his arms up to accept the clean hospital robe.

At long last, Linhardt leans back onto the hospital bed, not bothering to secure or even pull the robe closed, he just pulls the blankets up to his chin and gets comfortable, letting out a long sigh. Flayn had moved back to put away the supplies, collecting the destroyed uniform into a bundle and storing it in a nearby linen bag.

Perhaps he would fall back asleep, that would be preferable. Being awake at the moment was beyond dreadful. His mind, not only his body felt heavy. Even taking in slow, regular breaths felt like a chore. But he had to do it, Linhardt had no choice but to keep on and hope that the drowsiness would overcome him.

However, just on the precipice of oblivion, Flayn lets out a gasp and a jovial greeting that causes Linhardt to jerk back awake.

“Claude!” The high pitch of Flayn’s voice causes Linhardt to wince and pull back under the covers.

“Heya Flayn. I was told Linhardt is here.”

Flayn is clearly trying to restrain herself, given the grim circumstances, but she is still clearly thrilled. The prospect of romance still being so enthralling to her. “Yes, you came just in time actually. I just finished getting Linhardt settled into bed.”

“Okay, in that case, I’ll just grab my coat and leave.”

Linhardt hears Claude’s footsteps approach and has to suppress a frown forming. Claude walks around the bed, grabs his coat as said, but the footsteps come to a stop between Linhardt’s bed and the screen. Flayn is obscured from view, and Claude at least felt secure enough in the moment to let his true feelings start to leak out onto his face. Although Linhardt could not see it at the moment, Linhardt knows that Claude is there and all but holds his breath.

Claude approaches, letting out a sigh and reaching out a hand. Linhardt can feel the shift in the air, the heat of Claude’s hand as it approaches. Linhardt’s breath definitely hitches in his throat in anticipation. However, instead of Claude’s callused hand, Linhardt instead senses the hand pulling away.

In a moment of irritated impulse, Linhardt lifts a hand that had been resting on his chest and opens his eyes. Claude does not notice immediately that Linhardt is awake, not until Linhardt’s hand darts out to grab Claude’s retreating wrist.

“Gah!” Claude exclaims, his wrist jerks out of Linhardt’s grip and for a moment Linhardt saw something like true shock flash across Claude’s face. It, however, takes a mere moment for Claude to refocus instead on the fact that Linhardt is awake.

“If the issue was that you do not wish to touch me while I am unconscious, that is now clearly no longer a concern.”

“Lin—” Claude grimaces, glancing back to where Flayn was still standing behind them. Linhardt had clearly not intended that to sound dirty, but Claude was still far more on edge than usual. He would still be as long as anyone else was there and listening.

Flayn, noticing their sudden silence quickly replies. “Oh! Don’t worry about me, I can step out for a bit!”

“Nonsense,” Claude says with a nervous chuckle. “You’re the healer on duty!”

“Precisely, and I need to go and make my report to professor Manuela! I know that Linhardt will be fine with you for a moment, I will take my leave!”

She dashed away before Claude could protest, not that he actually wanted her to stay, after all. Claude did want to be alone with Linhardt, clearly, but that yearning is also the thing that terrifies him the most.

Claude lets out another breath and faces Linhardt. Those endless blue eyes stare back, and for a moment there is silence. Claude however, despite his reservations, pulls up a chair and sits down next to Linhardt whose eyes continue to follow him. Claude has always found the deep colour of Linhardt’s eyes to be quite beautiful. And oddly enough, never quite found it unnerving. At times, it felt like Linhardt was staring right through him, but Claude found the feeling…not unpleasant. Perhaps it was because of Linhardt’s usual near-expressionless face. At least to most it would appear so, but Claude felt that at least a little, he was starting to be able to read the mage.

Linhardt knew Claude’s secret, at least part of it. And in reality, Claude was not doing nearly enough to conceal it. Those eyes…they never once showed any disgust or distrust. Only that wide-eyed curiosity, deep interest, and at other times—

Claude remembers, Linhardt’s face when he expected rejection under the tree of their first meeting; his soft smile, illuminated but the sunset in the sniper tower; his beautiful hair lit by candlelight and—

And…how Linhardt looked, strewn across the chapel floor like so much rubble.

“Hey, Linhardt,” Claude began, feeling his cheeks tinge pink. “I don’t know if you noticed but,” he gestures vaguely with one hand. “You ended up pretty…exposed after the attack,” he coughs into his hand.

“Mm? Yes. I must have been in a sorry state before whoever managed to heal me…”

“Ahh, I just thought I would let you know. I don’t think anyone else saw you, I covered you up as soon as I saw.”

Claude was looking away, his face at an angle that Linhardt could not quite clearly see from where he lay. Linhardt’s brows furrow in confusion. “Claude, I have no idea what you are talking about?”

Linhardt shifts and pushes themself upright in bed with some difficulty. Hearing his grunts, Claude immediately turns to face Linhardt but ends up being stopped in his tracks before any kind of assistance could be offered.

Now mostly upright, the blanket covering Linhardt’s chest had fallen away, revealing the still open robe and the truthfully quite sheer gauze covering Linhardt’s chest. The contours and peaks of what Claude had so “regrettably” glimpsed earlier were now all but staring him in the face.

Claude’s face flushes immediately and for the moment he is unsure fully what to do. It doesn’t even register how unaffected Linhardt is, Claude’s own preconceptions just thrusting him forward without thought. “Ahh— Uhm you must be cold, right?” He says, lunging forward to attempt to pull the blanket back up. But before he can, something in Claude pulls and tenses painfully. A jolt of pain flits up through his ribs and a searing ache in his shoulder causes him to visibly wince.

Linhardt’s ever-observant eyes do not miss a thing. “Claude, you’re injured.”

Claude forces a chuckle. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

Linhardt was by no means convinced by this statement, his face scrunching into a pout. “Claude,” Linhardt moves closer, extending a hand already prickling with faith magic. Claude starts to protest but finds his words die in his throat when Linhardt’s hand touches his bare shoulder. He grimaces, but it soon melts away as the pain is quickly replaced by relief. This is the first time that Linhardt has healed him, Claude thinks. Perhaps he is imagining things, but he swears that it feels somehow...different than when Marianne or Lysithea does it. Not in any way that he can articulate, but it feels clear that this magic is...Linhardt’s. In the way that his voice, scent or profile belongs to Linhardt alone, so to does this flow of life force that Claude shares in for but a brief moment.

Despite this, however, Claude feels a jolt of concern.

“Linhardt,” he begins. “I don’t know much about magic, but I know the basics,” he grimaces, lifting a hand to brace Linhardt by the shoulder. The mage already appears to sway a bit.

“I am unable to use faith magic on myself. And so I might as well use it on you,” Linhardt says, eyes flicking up to Claude briefly.

Claude frowns. “I could have gotten Flayn or Manuela to do it for me.”

Linhardt’s eyelids droop and he lets out a sigh. “You truly can be a fool at times, can’t you.”

Before Claude can reply, Linhardt leans in and captures Claude’s lips into a gentle kiss. They never intended to go so long between kisses, but it seemed unavoidable. And frankly, if Claude was to be honest, there was something to the edge of desperation that came with a passionate kiss after weeks of passing each other by.

Tasting Linhardt’s lips again, the memories that had come to mind earlier fill him with even more intense emotion. And along with that, so too comes the fear, the horror, the ice cold hands that gripped him when Claude thought for a long moment that Linhardt might be gone for good. 

But there is also warmth there, security. A tiny little flicker of hope while Linhardt is alive and by his side, Claude will always have at least someone that he can consider trusting. That, in all honesty, was more than the scared child he once was could have hoped for.

Claude gasps for air and pulls back, cupping Linhardt’s face. “Linhardt I—”

The infirmary door opens and Flayn’s voice rings out across the room once again. Claude is suddenly very thankful for the screen behind them. It gives him enough time to untangle himself from Linhardt and straightens himself as best as he can.

Linhardt remains seated on the bed, folding his hands into his lap with his cheeks burning red. That much can’t be hidden when the others come back behind the curtain. Flayn has returned, along with Hilda and Bileth.

Linhardt and Claude both sit there somewhere between relaxed and tense, Claude still sitting on the edge of Linahrdt’s bed, but turning to face the others. “Teach! Hilda!” They both acknowledge him but Linhardt is clearly of bigger concern to both of them

“Linhardt!” Hilda exclaims. “Goddess, I’m so glad you’re awake already. Seeing you carried out of there like some limp doll,” she grimaces. “Anyway, you’re all in one piece and that’s what matters.”

Bileth nods relief plain on his face. “I am glad too that you are safe. My sister told me and so I wanted to see you for myself while she can’t be here.”

Linhardt’s brows crease. “Where is the professor anyway?” He asks.

Bileth pauses before replying. “Veles is with Edelgard and Hubert. At the moment, I believe they are attempting their own investigation of what happened,” he then casts his eyes to Claude who also has become rather serious. “That’s why I was looking for you, Claude. We want to make sure that you are in the loop.”

Claude lets out a huff. “Duty calls then I suppose?” He gives a smirk and stands up from Linhardt’s bed, stretching out his newly healed shoulder. “Best not let a moment go to waste!” Despite his performance, Claude is more than a little reluctant to leave Linhardt right now. He wants just one more moment alone. He can’t possibly go ahead and—

Well, everyone knows already, don’t they? What more is there to hide.

Before leaving with the others, Claude turns, leans down and swoops in to place a quick kiss on Linhardt’s cheek. “I’ll see you soon. Tomorrow for sure, make sure you rest up tonight, okay?” While an innocent act in and of itself, Claude’s heart pounds in his chest. Something like this is meant to just be for them, a kiss was a way to communicate, ‘i care about you’, and other such sentiments. But right now, Claude felt only like he was shouting to the world: ‘this person is my weakness, target him if you want to hurt me’.

Before he pulls away, however, Linhardt reaches out and gently squeezes Claude’s hand. Their eyes meet for a brief moment, and Claude sees Linhardt's lips turn up at the corners into the smallest of his beloved smiles. “I shall hold you to that,” Linhardt’s voice is gentle, and Claude feels a bundle of sparks now go off in his chest and that grin on his face becomes just a little more genuine.

He nods, pulling away and rounding back to the other three. “Alright, off we go then?”

As he joins Hilda and the professor, Flayn almost moves to go with them, but then hangs back, seemingly remembering her duty as a healer. “I’m putting Linhardt in your capable hands,” Claude says to Flayn with a wink.

This causes Flayn’s eyes to widen in pleasant surprise and then her brows crunch in determination. “Of course, you can count on me!” Claude laughs, Hilda and Bileth both smile. Linhardt gazes at the back of Claude’s head until he’s out of view.

Now to recovery, back to Linhardt’s chaotic thoughts as the infirmary door closes behind them. At the very least, Linhardt is not alone, but he would honestly have much preferred it if Claude could stay. No matter, it could not be helped. Linhardt curls back up into bed, the sound of Flayn humming as she worked around him is oddly comforting. Despite their lack of closeness, he did still feel comfortable around Flayn, for which he was grateful. And so for now, Linhardt could finally find some peaceful sleep. At the very least until the next morning breaks.


	8. Axiomatic Sentiment Part I

**24th of red wolf moon**

Linhardt was safe, at least now that worry could be pushed from Edelgard’s mind. It had never been a question as to why Linhardt had gone, that much was obvious. As it seemed now, Linhardt was merely an unintended casualty in whatever nefarious plot had been aimed straight at the Bishop.

This was now the question. Edelgard could think of many possible responsible parties. However, this particular means of execution…Edelgard’s chest felt gripped by an icy vice. Her assumption, as of now, is that whoever wanted Luzia dead had secured the assistance of…them. However, she would not be able to reveal that particular piece of knowledge. It burned, but by now she was used to it, the secrets. She never intended to share her plans with her classmates, but in this situation, silence could mean suspicion.

Because, indeed, upon that list of potential culprits, is Edelgard herself.

At the very least, for now, Edelgard did not have Linhardt’s blood on her hands, she thinks. As ridiculous as it might seem, if he had died, Edelgard would have considered herself almost wholly responsible. And so for now, she has this small drop of hope to cling to.

The next morning, Edelgard takes it upon herself to see to Linhardt’s wellbeing. It is the very least she can do, as House Leader. As was to be expected, Edelgard, Claude and the professors were summoned to attend a briefing with lady Rhea at mid-morning, and so before then, Edelgard chooses to sneak in this personal visit to Linhardt.

Edelgard thinks briefly on how Rhea’s summons seems somewhat leisurely. After the chaos of the night before, a lockdown would seem almost prudent. But as of now, no such order has come down, perhaps intended to be given directly from Rhea, given how poorly an indirect ordered had faired just the day before.

Edelgard stands at the doorway of the Infirmary, a fresh uniform and a small wrapped parcel in her arms. She peers in and knocks on the open door before entering. “Linhardt? Are you awake?”

“Mm,” the sound of their reply is just loud enough for Edelgard to hear.

At his reply, Edelgard walks over to where he is still obscured by a half-extended screen.

“Linhardt? How are you feeling.”

Linhardt looks up, a look of very mild surprise on his face. “I am still feeling quite awful, to be honest. But I am alive I suppose.”

Edelgard cracks a small relieved smile. Linhardt being able to be his usual dry and honest self was indeed a good sign.

“May I sit with you a while?”

Linhardt nods and Edelgard settles down into the open seat by his bedside. “I hope that my presence is not unwelcome.”

Linhardt stares at her for a few moments longer before shaking his head. “No, it’s fine,” his gaze then falls very pointedly to the objects in Edelgard’s lap.

“Ah yes,” She says, starting slightly. “I brought you a fresh uniform, and something to hopefully help ease your boredom,” she says, taking the folded uniform and placing it on the edge of Linhardt’s bed. She then takes the small wrapped box and holds it out to him.

“I intended to give this to you closer to your birthday, but now seems as apt a time as any.”

Linhardt takes the parcel, removing the paper promptly. Edelgard watches his expression with a bit of nervous anticipation. She had taken great care to select something that Linhardt would enjoy. Linhardt’s expression remains unchanged to the untrained observer, his eyes widening slightly as he reads the title. “Ah, I have in fact already read this book.”

Edelgard manages to keep from reacting visibly but her hands move fast enough. “I see, then if you do not need it—”

Linhardt then turns to Edelgard with a very small pleased smile on his lips, one that Edelgard cannot say that she has seen before. “This is an old favourite of mine and I am more than happy to reread it. I thank you.”

Edelgard is very relieved by Linhardt’s favourable reaction, but unfortunately, there are still more dire matters to attend to.

“Linhardt, while I am here to check on your wellbeing, certainly someone as perceptive as you will be able to anticipate my other reasons. As such I will get straight to the point.” She clears her throat. “I know that your memories of the incident are blurry, but I need you to tell me absolutely everything that you can, every possible detail.”

Linhardt gives a bitter huff. “They are still unable to find Luzia, I imagine?”

Edelgard nods solemnly.

Linhardt bites his lip. “I am sorry Edelgard. But I truly do not remember much else of potential use.”

Edelgard pauses before replying. “Then in that case. This may be a sensitive topic, so you may decline to answer if you wish,” another pause. “Do you have any idea what it is that could have resulted in your memory loss? Do you remember something happening that could have caused you to lose consciousness, perhaps?”

Linhardt ponders for a moment. “What I remember is that my conversation with Luzia was cut off when what sounded like a demonic beast suddenly appeared,” his brow furrows. “From behind us. We were standing in the main atrium in front of the altar,” he lets out a short sigh. “Truly I do not remember anything beyond when we first heard it’s beastly roar,” he pauses. “Nothing that I am confident in telling you, that is.”

Edelgard gives him an inquisitive look. “Now what exactly do you mean by that?”

Linhardt shrugs. “I do not wish to conceal anything from you, but I do not wish to give you any false information either,” he supplies.

“I see…” she ponders. “You mean to say that you remember other things, but you have reason to doubt their veracity.”

“Precisely.”

“I understand, Linhardt. I appreciate your diligence.”

Linhardt, however, does not seem put at ease by her assurances. His face remains rather knit up with a mess of emotions that Edelgard has little hope of deciphering on her own.

Edelgard then clears her throat to continue speaking. “It is my understanding that,” Edelgard pauses, glancing down at her hands. “That when someone experiences a great trauma, often the memories around that event become blurred,” she then looks up and meets Linhardt’s eyes. “The memory loss could constitute hours before or after the event. And depending on the extent of the trauma, even months or years.”

Linhardt takes in this information. “I suppose this is meant to reassure me, I appreciate it,” his hands clench over the blanket over his lap. “Still. It seems unforgivable that I, as the only material witness can be of no real help.”

“Linhardt,” Edelgard’s voice becomes somewhat more firm. “You were not simply a ‘material witness’, you were also one of the victims,” she says. “Judging by the extent of the damage...you must have been at the very brink of death. If anyone would choose to deride you for your lack of ‘usefulness’ in this situation. Quite frankly, no one has any right to expect something like that from you.”

Linhardt does not have an immediate reply and simply continues to meet her eyes until finally looking away. “I do not have a refutation of that.”

Edelgard then relaxes just a little bit, her shoulders slumping back against her chair. “Above all, Linhardt, I am deeply grateful that you are alive at all.”

Linhardt’s eyes widen slightly upon hearing this. “I…”

Edelgard remains silent, watching him, wondering if perhaps she had said something out of line. Linhardt, however, appears merely at a loss for words.

“Linhardt, thank you very much for speaking with me today,” Edelgard says while getting to her feet.

Linhardt’s gaze follows her for a moment and then his eyes return to the book in his hands.

“If not I, I will make sure that someone will stop by later to check on you, and catch you up to speed.”

Linhardt nods.

“I am now headed to an audience with Rhea, that I imagine will be somewhat consequential,” she pauses. “The professors and Claude will also be in attendance.”

Linhardt’s lips turn down into a very small frown. “It is alright, you needn’t go out of your way to mention him for my sake.”

Edelgard’s brows crease together. “While I know that I have no business in prying into your personal affairs. It is not exactly something that I can afford to fully ignore,” Edelgard says, taking a step closer to Linhardt’s bed. “You are my classmate, Linhardt. I can see that you and Claude have become very close,” she pauses. “I will admit, at first, I was quite skeptical. Knowing his reputation, I feared that he might want to simply use you for one of his schemes,” she smiles. “But frankly, after last night, I can see that he truly cares for you.”

Linhardt then glances up at Edelgard. “I have to say that I am…surprised that you seem so, permissive of this,” Linhardt says. “It should go without saying but, there isn’t exactly any future I can see for the next Archduke Riegan and the future imperial domestic minister.”

Edelgard’s expression hardens. Oh, how she wishes she could tell him, of the world she wishes to build. In that world, no one would have to throw away love for the sake of their position. She would have a world where Linhardt wouldn’t be forced to inherit the title he didn’t want, and he wouldn’t have to consider such things in the face of his own happiness. But she cannot say these things, she cannot tell him. There is no guarantee that Linhardt will even want to look at her after her bloody path reaches it’s destination.

“Linhardt. I want you to know this,” she says. “When I become emperor, you will not need to have such considerations, not with me.”

Linhardt’s eyes widen and he looks at her again with curiosity.

“While I cannot change the hearts of every noble in Fódlan, know that I will not think you derelict in your duty, or a worthless noble should you not choose a partner in line with your family’s wishes.”

“I...” Again, he does not know quite how to respond.

Edelgard, however, gives him a rather soft smile. “You needn’t push yourself right now, Linhardt. I know I am asking a lot, even talking to you as you are yet recovering.”

Linhardt shakes his head. “Edelgard, that is not quite it—”

Edelgard presses her lips together. “I do have to get going now, Linhardt. I hope you can forgive me.” Edelgard then turns around and heads finally for the door.

“Thank you...truly, for visiting me today.”

Edelgard pauses briefly in her exit but does not turn around. “Of course, Linhardt. I will pray for your swift recovery.”

Edelgard then makes her exit, walking the short distance to the Audience chamber. She catches sight of the professors, as well as Claude. As she approaches, Claude is the first to notice, his reactions always exceedingly quick.

“Well would you look at this, our own Imperial princess arriving last to a summons,” he grins, although the way he meets her eyes feels somewhat meaningful.

“I was actually just visiting the infirmary,” she says, coming to a stop a few paces away from him and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Right,” he replies, keeping his expression miraculously even.

Given the conversation she had just had with Linhardt, she wasn't exactly most eager to just pretend they were merely acquainted. But without a doubt, Claude was considering the overwhelming political ramifications that could result from this courtship as much, if not more than Linhardt was.

It was somewhat unlikely that the news of their relationship would spread past the walls of Garreg Mach, especially now that something, far more important and dire had occurred. However, almost certainly, Claude was walking the line of keeping his closeness to Linhardt quiet, with risking that he might come off as ashamed to be dating Linhardt at all.

To Edelgard, it was as clear as anything that this was how they were involved, while ignorant to the fact that the two in question actually have yet to even fully admit that to themselves.

But in truth, a situation like this was only further motivating for Edelgard on her path. As comparatively insignificant as it might seem. things like this were, after all, to do with the rotten crest system. Relationships between people of the same gender, or couples who otherwise cannot reproduce, there would be no need to shun them in a society that no longer held crests as paramount.

Edelgard continues. “I spoke to Linhardt, and there is something I would very much like to discuss with you, in private after this summons.”

Claude grins and Edelgard sighs.

“It is about what Linhardt remembers from the attack. After that, you are free to make your own visit to him,” she pauses. “Linhardt is eagerly awaiting being able to see you.”

Claude swallows and glances away. “Well, would you look at that,” he says, watching the doors to the Audience Chamber open. “It looks like you made it here just in time.”

The house leaders each share brief glances with their respective professors before being guided into the chamber by a surprisingly large group of Knights. The heightened security does not escape anyone’s notice.

Rhea stands before them, her expression far graver and more serious than any of them had previously witnessed. Seteth stood by her side, as always, seeming stiff and distant even for him.

“Lady Rhea,” Bileth begins with a glance to his sister. “Firstly, we must say that as professors we—”

Rhea lifts a hand to gently silent him. “It is alright, young professor Eisner. I have been informed of all of your deeds the night prior.”

Veles then replies. “Then you know, we chose to defy your direct order.”

Rhea nods solemnly. “I do understand. And I do see that you must be fearing some sort of punishment from me. But I assure you, there is no need to fear.”

The Eisners’ eyes widen in response to this.

Rhea’s face however falls and she glances to the floor in apparent shame. “I cannot saddle you with blame. You received an order that contradicted your original directive, and you chose what you believed was right.”

This, however, does not sit well. The Archbishop that Edelgard and Claude have come to know is not one who permits any deviation from her absolute will.

Rhea lets out a performative sigh. “In truth, I fear that It was instead, I who was mistaken.”

“Mistaken?” Veles asks.

Rhea then looks up and meets the eyes of the older twin. “Yes, after all, it was I who chose to entrust you to the leadership of Ser Anara.” Rhea took on an apologetic countenance that was unlike any of the assembled ever expected to see from the Archbishop.

Rhea then looks up, directing her baleful look again to the Eisner twins. “Indeed. If anyone is to take the blame, it must be myself. For I was under the impression that Anara was…trustworthy.”

Claude’s jaw goes stiff. “And now, what do you mean by that?” Claude asks, the slightest nervous tremor present in his voice, but only detectable by Bileth among their present company. Bileth’s eyes then slide over to Claude.

Rhea then finally turns to acknowledge Claude. “It would appear that based on our information that the one responsible for this tragedy is none other than Ser Anara herself.”

“Your Holiness,” Edelgard begins. “Anara was the one who led us to the Chapel. Every individual in attendance that day can account for her whereabouts for several hours leading up to the incident.”

“I appreciate your input, Edelgard, but I assure you, our investigation has been thorough and absolute. Anara was the one entrusted with the coordination of security for the entire ceremony. Any flaws in the security measures are her responsibility.”

“Yes, but that’s not quite the same as orchestrating the incident herself?” Claude adds.

“Whether or not she did conspire for this to occur, As a Knight, she was always ready to pay for her failures with her life. Her sins cannot afford to be left unpunished.”

These leaves the four rather silent. Not even Seteth seemed to have anything to add to mitigate this. Undoubtedly they understood the severity of this, Luzia was important not only politically, but clearly to Rhea herself. But wasn’t Anara also?

“Where is Anara now?” Claude asks.

Rhea seems unable to fully hide her displeasure at this request. “She is currently being held in custody. She is not being permitted visitors at this time.”

Given Rhea’s usual haste in executing supposed heretics, there was no time to waste. And already, Claude was thinking about defying another one of Rhea’s orders just for good measure.

The briefing continues. Seteth stepping in to inform the house leaders of the new restrictions.

“While Lady Rhea has chosen not to discipline you for this…indiscretion,” he clears his throat. “We will be instigating increased security measures until the end of this moon at the very least. The students will now have a curfew to adhere to.”

The house leaders and professors nod. If anything, this is still a gracious punishment.

Rhea replies. “All students must remain in their dormitories after sundown. However, the house leaders are permitted to be out and about as needed to enforce this,” she pauses. “This is a privilege I, however, cannot extend to any house leader assistants or retainers. Be sure to communicate this as appropriate,” she says, her gaze lingering on Edelgard for just a moment longer than on the others.

Claude presses his lips together before replying. “The Blue Lions are due to return soon from their own little mission, correct?”

“Yes,” Rhea responds. “They too will be expected to adhere to the curfew measures. This is to protect the students, after all,” her face falls again. “We were incredibly lucky that only one student was wrapped up in that tragedy, and even luckier that they survived,” she looks back up again. “However, we cannot risk this again. It is the responsibility of the officer’s academy to ensure the safety of our students.”

Claude has to suppress an indignant laugh. Safety was a bit hard to guarantee when children were being used basically as cadet Knight’s forces. Students of the officer’s academy died all the time. But even so, that did not keep their deaths from causing the occasional political incident as well. Even if the risks of battle should be known to anyone who sends their promising young heir to this place.

Once they were dismissed, Claude is the first to make his way out. Edelgard’s eyes follow him, even as she hangs back to speak with Veles for a few short moments. The four of them are lead back out of the Audience chamber and the door shut behind them. Edelgard thought that perhaps Claude would be going to talk to Bileth in private, but that assumption is quickly dispersed.

“Professor, pardon me,” Edelgard says with an apologetic glance before starting off after Claude as he is already descending the staircase down to the lower levels.

“Claude!” Edelgard calls, striding after him and managing to get him to stop and face her at the base of the stairwell.

“Yes, your imperial highness? Is there something that you require of me?”

“I need you to listen to me, for just a moment.”

“Oh that’s right, you had something important to say.”

“Given where you are headed, I can assume you do not intend to see Linhardt anytime soon, so I will insist on imparting this information to you.”

Claude keeps his face blank, waiting for Edelgard to continue.

“I am sure that you have guess similarly. But I firmly believe that Luzia is still alive.”

“Really?” Claude asks, compulsively not showing his hand, even if there was no real reason to play coy at the moment. “Now, pray tell, what led you to that conclusion?”

Edelgard frowns. “Linhardt’s injuries.”

Indeed. Claude has come to the same conclusion that Edelgard has. As much as it pains Claude to think of Linhardt’s sorry state the night before, the situation demands it.

The fact that Linhardt was unscathed meant that whatever threat had faced them had been eliminated. Luzia was able to heal Linhardt, which also meant that she could not have been dead or seriously injured herself.

The night before, entering the chapel, they had only found a singular demonic beast corpse and Linhardt. No trace of the Bishop, no signs that anyone else had entered the Chapel. It had taken some time for Anara and the students to make their way there, the chapel had been surrounded by knights even more black beasts.

It was a puzzle. There was still the question of how Luzia had survived, where she had gone, who helped her, and above all…why?

“Well,” Claude begins. “Thanks for the info, your highness.” He then turns on his heel, heading directly for the prisons.

Edelgard shakes her head but makes no effort to stop him. Edelgard had a mind to try and speak with Anara herself, but for the moment.

“Hubert,” she commands, and within a moment, her aide materializes by her side.

“Yes, my lady. What is it that you require of me?”

Edelgard turns to him and meets his eyes. “It would seem that I have some correspondences to conduct,” she says, the unspoken meaning coming through the way her jaw clenches, her shoulders stiffen and her fingers flex.

“Right away,” Hubert all but whispers.

* * *

Doubt, suspicion, condescension, incredulously, there are all things that Anara is more than completely used to at this point. She was a mere child when she had first been brought to Fódlan. Despite the seemingly equal status of women in Fódlan, many had thought her a weak and incapable girl at first. Perhaps this is what Fódlaners thought of Almyran women? Thought them to be nothing but waifish trophies to be claimed by warrior men. Funny, they must not realise that more than half of those “barbaric warriors” that Goneril forces so proudly slaughter are indeed women themselves.

Anara, like just about every other child she knew had been taught to hold a sword before a make-up brush or even a quill-pen. Her parents had been proud warriors. From the stories they told, her mother had challenged her father to a duel as was the courtship custom. He had lost to her three times until finally succeeding only on the fourth.

She had been 15 years old. Old enough to ride a horse and follow her parents into battle. Never once had she questioned it. Honour had to be maintained, those despicable Fodlani cowards who hid behind their walls...who looked down on the world with their goddess and their backwards ways...Never could they be permitted to lord their victory over the proud lands of Almyra.

However, in her very first battle, Anara did not find glory, she did not find pride, nor the joy of victory. Instead, she lost her family, her hope and her freedom.

Anara had been prepared to take her own life, rather than suffer the indignity of defeat and capture at the hands of those cowardly Fodlaners, much less those under the command of the pompous house Goneril. A noble house whose only claim to notoriety was the blood of countless Almyrans at their feet.

Anara had been lucky. She had been saved from a life of forced servitude in house Goneril by the church. But peculiarly, it seemed that House Goneril had been allowed to continue that abhorrent practice. This Anara learned only upon returning to Garreg Mach after so long.

Like with Claude, Anara had recognised her kinsmen immediately. But honestly, seeing the young Cyril as he was, it had been far too painful to even bear. She had seen him, busying about the monastery, handling all manner of arduous tasks. Work that was most likely not much different than what he would have been forced to do at house Goneril, and yet—

But at this exact moment, Anara is, unfortunately, unable to avoid facing him. She cannot look away. This young boy, same hair, skin and eyes as herself, and the same tragic tale. She had heard his story, so similar, almost eerily so. And from what she heard, he was also being trained in combat by one of the mercenaries.

Anara woke up with her head pounding, freshly forming bruises throbbing over her whole body. Which injuries had been from the beasts, and which from the knights? Anara couldn’t even tell at this point. But for now, Anara is once again in a church cell, shackles around her ankles. Looking out of the bars of her cell, she sees Cyril, broom in hand, glaring back at her.

“Hey kid,” she says with a casual grin. Cyril doesn’t respond, only glaring back at her. “You know, I’m feeling pretty thirsty. You wouldn’t happen to be the one assigned to bring my provisions?”

Cyril’s lips turn down into a scowl and he turns his head to the side. “I’m just performing my routine cleaning, I’m not here to wait on a Heretic.”

“Heretic, huh? Big word. Did Rhea teach you that one?”

Silence.

“So you’re just doing more of your chores, is one of your chores to just stand there and glare at me?”

A somewhat guilty expression floats onto his face.

Anara’s smile then softens. “Look, I can promise you this much, I won’t rat you out to Rhea,” she says, holding up her chained hands. “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

Cyril looks back at her. She can see something on his face. He seems to want to hate her, like he has been told to. But there is still curiosity there that he cannot seem to shake.

“You keep looking at me like I’m some kinda costumed bear in a cage,” she smirks. “Come on, if there’s something you want to know, spit it out.”

Cyril grimaces and trains his glare on her again. “Why did you do it? Why did you betray lady Rhea?”

Anara presses her lips together while she considers her answer. “Tell me kid, who is it that’s most important to you in the whole world?”

He gives a scoff as if the answer was obvious. “Lady Rhea, of course.”

“Well, this is gonna make my metaphor difficult, but here we go,” she lifts her shackled hands, attempting to gesticulate along with her point. “So lets just say then. You’d obey any order from Rhea, I assume, no matter what?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“What if Lady Rhea ordered you to kill her? What would you do then?”

Cyril scowls. “That’s stupid, why would Lady Rhea ask me to do something like that?”

“Oh, believe me, I can think of plenty of reasons why. Maybe she’s captured and being threatened, or maybe she’s been cursed by some evil magic that will make her go mad unless she’s stopped.”

“Now you’re just making things up.”

Anara laughs and splays out her fingers in resignation. “You’ve got me there, kid,” she then looks straight back at him. “But that’s my answer. Luzia was my most important person.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Lady Rhea says you’re the one who killed her!”

“I suppose you’re not about to ever believe that your precious Lady could ever be wrong.”

Cyril only responds with an indignant huff.

“So, is that all you wanted to know then?”

“Yeah,” his eyes dart away and he resumes his tight grip on his broom, seeming to try and busy himself with the chores he must have actually been here to do.

Anara watches him, not really skeptical, more distantly sad. Could Anara herself have ended up like him? Who could know? And frankly, he was still the age she had been when she was first taken. He had a long way to go still, and Anara only hopes that things will someday change for him.

At that moment, Anara and Cyril both heard the sound of the outer door to the holding cells opening. Cyril’s suspicious gaze slides to the door before quickly becoming indifferent. “Oh, it’s you,” he says, resuming his sweeping in the opposite direction.

“And a good day to you too, Cyril,” Claude then strides into Anara’s view, sneaking her a quick glance before focusing on the young boy.

“I hope you have permission to be here,” Cyril grumbles.

“As for you, Cyril,” Claude says with a wink.

Cyril then grimaces. “Of course I’m allowed to be here, Lady Rhea asked me personally to...” he says this while not meeting Claude or Anara’s eyes.

Claude’s lips quirk into a small grin. “In that case, I’ll make sure to deliver my compliments to Lady Rhea later. I am sure she will be thrilled to know of how diligent you are in your duties.”

Cyril’s eyes then widen and he glares at Claude. “No! That’s fine. I was done here anyway, I’ll go report to her myself!”

Anara can’t help but smirk. Cyril seemed to have many skills, but lying was not yet among them. And truthfully, Anara and Claude both hoped that he might never have to develop the same talent for deception as they had been forced to.

Cyril then gives a huff, making his way past Claude to the exit from whence he came. He then storms out, leaving the heavy iron door to clang shut behind him without another word.

“Real interesting kid, that one,” Anara says, drawing Claude’s attention back to her. Despite her persistently casual demeanour, Claude cannot seem to find it in himself to react in kind. His lips are formed into a frown, arms crossed over his chest. “You can say that again,” he has no interest in continuing to beat around the bush. Claude knew, and Anara surely did too that her time was limited. The fact that she was even still alive at this very moment was frankly a miracle.

“So,” Anara begins, dropping a bit of her bravado. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well, first of all, the Archbishop would have me believe that you are the one behind everything that happened last night.”

Anara smirks. “She sure can be convincing, that one.”

Claude gives an exasperated sigh and pulls over a stool to sit up in front of Anara’s cell.

“I, for one don’t believe it for a second.”

“How charitable of you.”

Claude’s expression, however, remains rather firm. “Well, I figure I better get straight to the point.” He sighs. “That time when we sparred. Am I correct in surmising that you’ve figured out who I am?”

“We actually met once, a long time ago,” Anara says. “You were still just a kid. But I remember. How could I forget meeting a Mizar,” Hearing Anara’s voice slip into their native tongue and form his old title made Claude visibly wince. “I have nothing to gain from telling anyone. I am, curious is all, about how exactly you ended up here, and why you seem so chummy with that Goneril girl.”

“Chummy, huh?” Claude huffs. “Really, I would have thought that it was obvious that we were mortal enemies considering who are fathers are,” he rolls his eyes. “You already know who I am, and that’s more than anyone else on this side of the Throat. I’d say that’s more than enough fair trade in exchange for your story.”

Anara lifts her hands in resignation. “Fair enough. I don’t have much to hide, after all. I am honestly more curious what it is you want to know from me exactly.”

The battle the night before had been hectic, to say the very least. Claude had lost sight of Anara just about as soon as they had come in sight of the chapel.

“I want to know a bit about you and Luzia,” Claude begins. “You’ve known her a long time, I reckon.”

Anara’s face softens, her eyes growing distant. “Yeah, I met her...11 years ago? It was about a year or so after I was...captured,” Anara sighs. “I was going to be a slave to house Goneril until the Church rescued me,” Anara gestures her shackled hands in the direction that Cyril earlier left. “Just about the same as that kid.”

Claude’s face remains rather blank. “So you were one of Rhea’s pet projects too, huh?”

Anara shrugs. “Not really, Rhea was a bit more...occupied with other pursuits back then. Had a whole handful of favourites, I wasn’t among them.”

“Now who exactly caught Rhea’s eye back then, huh?”

“Luzia, for starters,” again, that soft far-off look. “Oh yeah, and this guy named Alphard, and a few others.”

Claude files that name away for later inquiry, he had heard it whispered around before. “Luzia seems to have kept the Archbishop’s favor for a long time then.”

“Yeah, I mean, if you look at who she is, that’s not surprising at all. On top of everything else, she has a major saint crest.”

Claude’s lips press together. “Now you will have to forgive me, you know I’m new to these parts,” he huffs and crosses his arms. “What exactly is Luzia’s background, and does it have anything to do with why she seems to have a bone to pick with Edelgard?”

Anara gives a dry laugh. “Sorry, not laughing at you. It’s just,” she shrugs. “It’s a bit of an open secret. I’m sure everyone from the Empire can figure it out. I’m sure that bookworm Hevring you’re so fond of figured it out too.” Claude winces internally. “Anyway,” Anara clears her throat. “How much do you know about house Hrym?”

“Oh plenty, their territory shares a border with the domain I’m meant to lead someday,” he replies with a wink.

“Right, so I’m sure you’re aware of their little rebellion.”

Claude grimaces. “Yeah, I am. House Hrym’s main line was wiped out, and House Ordelia ended up in the Empire’s pocket.”

“Yeah, well, Luzia’s real name is Lucrezia von Hrym. She just so happened to have been attending the officer’s academy the year it all went down.”

“Just so happened?”

“She wasn’t the heir or anything, obviously. She’s like, 4th or 5th cousins with the guy who was next in line,” she shrugs. “As far as anyone knows, she’s the only remaining Hrym, and she chose to renounce her noble claims and join the church instead.”

“Are you sure she’s the only one?” Claude asks. “Wasn’t? Uh...” Claude swallows. “Wasn’t Professor Jeritza a Hrym?”

Anara grins and points one of her shackled hands at him. “There we go, this is where your answer lies.”

“I was about to ask, I can’t really see how a rebellion that happened when Edelgard was still a kid would make Luzia hate her.”

Anara shrugs. “Hate I think is a strong word. Only that Luzia definitely cares more about her family than she would let on.”

Claude doesn’t miss Anara’s usage of present tense around Luzia in that sentence.

“Edelgard is the one that installed Jeritza as the new heir to house Hrym,” Anara gestures vaguely with her hands. “We got briefed on what happened, and the circumstances of his disappearance. Needless to say, Luzia wasn’t happy.”

“Oh...I can imagine,” he says, leaning his head into one hand. “So, that’s why she seemed so cold to Edelgard, but there’s still more I’d like to know,” his mouth can’t resist quirking into a small grin. “You said you met her around 1170, what was the deal around that?”

Anara’s grin softens again. She knows she’s been less than obvious. And in truth, maybe she wanted Claude to ask. Maybe she just wants to talk a bit more about her, since given he circumstances, even if Luzia lives as Claude suspects, it seems extremely unlikely that Anara herself will even live to see her again.

“I came here to the central church to train. Even though to the knights my fighting style was ‘uncivilised’,” she scoffs. “They still figured they could make use of me I guess.”

Perhaps claude has already guessed, or perhaps he just doesn’t want to know how she entered the church’s custody.

“Luzia had been in the clergy for a couple of years by then,” Anara recounts. “She was already pretty influential, despite her youth and inexperience at the time.” Anara then lets her eyes fall closed. “I probably don’t need to tell you how awful it was for me here.” She shrugs. “I would say ‘at first’ but, honestly, things haven't really changed. I’m still Almyran, and Almyra is still ‘the eastern menace’.”

Claude nods.

“Who knows. Maybe I was just starved for someone that didn’t look down on me. Maybe I was desperate enough that I would have attached myself to anyone who showed me kindness,” she then lets her eyes slowly open. “But I at least want to believe that Luzia was special," a pause. “She was an outcast too, in her own way. Most imperials distrusted her because of her family’s rebellion; the church was skeptical of her meteoric rise. Maybe, she just understood.”

“You seem pretty unsure, considering how long you’ve known her,” Claude replies.

Anara lifts her hands again in an attempted casual gesture. “Sure I’ve known her 10 years, but can you ever really know a person?”

Claude crosses his arms, honestly, he agrees with her skepticism a bit too much, but he doesn’t quite buy it. “Pardon me if I’m out of line but, you don’t come off as the kind of person who would risk their life for someone that they didn’t fully trust.”

Anara glances down. “I could say the same about you,” she says softly. “Hey, in all honestly. I really hope that Hevring kid is okay.” Anara looks up again but Claude doesn’t meet her eyes.

Anara continues with a sigh. “When you find someone like that...Someone who sees you for who you are. Someone that doesn’t give a damn about what anyone else tells them to think about you—When you find someone like that, the only thing to do, really, is to hold on for dear life. Because odds are, you won’t find someone else like that a second time,” she shrugs. “Sure, you can find others who can grow to be like that, who can change. But people so clear-eyed and whose true desire is to first understand before judgement—Trust me. People like that are rare anywhere.”

Claude thinks back, to the way Linhardt had held him, the night when Claude had first met Anara herself. Linhardt’s eyes, it was always the eyes. Wide blue pools that sought only to understand more, to accept and to understand. Linhardt’s first worry had been that he himself had been mistaken, and not at all about Claude’s own secrets.Claude had doubted Linhardt at first, of course. His instincts had been that Linhardt must have been putting on an act, that he already knew and was trying to butter him up, endear him(but to what end? There always had to be an ulterior motive, right?)

But no. Someone like Linhardt, who hates bloodshed, detests violence; someone like him...

Claude swallows and meets Anara's gaze finally. “Thanks for answering, you’ve been a huge help,” Claude puts on a smile, but he honestly isn’t sure what to do next. He knows that he should see Linhardt,but there’s also so much else to be done. Things are dire, and Claude cannot waste a moment. But along with that, he cannot afford to waste a moment when Linhardt’s time with him is so limited too.

Anara gives Claude a two-finger salute as best as she can with her shackled wrists and slumps back against the wall of her cell.

“Anash’karif,” Claude whispers with one last glance to her through the bars of her cell. He doesn’t wait for an answer, he leaves as if dropping the almyran word on the floor and abandoning it for dead. He leaves that part of him there in the prison cell with Anara. The memories of his childhood stay there. The name, that title he has no right to claim, all of if he leaves on that cold tile floor.

Claude von riegan exits the church holding cell and faces the daylight of the monastery once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah, and I should mention, this fic is going to incorporate things from Cindered Shadows, starting with the next arc. Alphard, is Aelfric’s original name. I played CS Completely in Japanese, plus, the name Alphard is from one of the stars in the Canis Majoris constellation which is a very symbolically relevant constellation in the story, also being the name sake for the Ashen Wolves Class.


	9. Axiomatic Sentiment Part II

Hilda quite possibly has never worked harder a day in her life. But at the moment she isn’t going to complain. Bileth was the only one who came back from the briefing with Rhea, and with Claude apparently busy, more responsibility fell to her. They had to wrangle all the deer and make sure everyone obeyed the new curfew. How awful, already this monastery was tinyand cramped and boring, and now she would be stuck in her room more? 

But, oddly enough, Hilda was finding that those usual thoughts that would crowd her mind were of far less importance right now.

Claude...Claude.

Hilda had asked, where Claude had run off to, Bileth replied with a shrug. “I am not sure but…he seemed to be very worried about Anara.“

Hilda’s brow furrows. Best to leave that alone for now. It was unmistakable that Anara was suspicious, but she would keep those thoughts to herself for now.

For the moment, Hilda and Bileth make their rounds, checking on each student and tracking down stragglers from other areas. 

Passing by Claude’s empty room on the second floor, Hilda’s face falls again.

“I know he’s the class leader but, we should probably look for him too, right?”

Bileth glances back at her. “Certainly, if Claude doesn’t come back after curfew…” he pauses. “But remember? Claude had promised to see Linhardt again today.”

The mention of that scene the night before sends an uncomfortable sensation up Hilda’s spine. Claude had done that. He had kissed Linhardt in front of them all and had made his promise. Claude surely wouldn’t break that promise to someone so important, right?

Hilda lets out a sigh, perhaps a bit too obviously tinged with melancholy. While Bileth notices, he makes no further comment.

Back in Wyvern moon, Hilda had spotted them together more than a few times. Even if back then Claude was in complete denial, Hilda already knew. It hurt, but she knew. 

And Hilda at least, she could admit to herself why it hurt. It was obvious, what was the point of denying it to herself? It’s not like she ever had any hopes for Claude liking her back. She had made very sure that Claude only knew the lowest and most grating version of herself. Better that Claude think she’s a shallow, lazy girl, rather than catch feelings and just end up even more disappointed after getting closer.

But still, that little nagging pain persisted. It just got stronger when she saw the way Claude’s face softened just slightly at the mere mention of his name. After piecing together some rumours, Hilda now knows that Claude spent the night in Linhardt’s room the night after the Bishop’s arrival. So that was comforting at least. Maybe that’s why Claude was so evasive with her? Linhardt had already handled it. Linhardt had been there and had been able to help Claude with whatever happened with Anara. Linhardt, and not Hilda. That’s fine, that’s okay, no— in fact. That’s great! Whatever feelings Hilda has for Claude, it means that she’s happy as long as Claude is happy.

While that is true, a sensation of relief fills her at the thought, that nagging doubt still remains.

That voice, the one that never quite ceases. That repeated refrain of _'you weren't able to help Claude because you’re not good enough.'_

Although Claude in technicality isn’t on her list of students to check on, After how devastated he was after the attack the night before, Hilda needs to make sure he’s okay. Surely he has to be better, right? Linhardt is safe. It had just been the stress of everything.

At the moment, Hilda is actually looking for Marianne, the one golden deer who had yet to be secured in her room. Hilda has an inclination of where she might be, and so heads that way towards the Cathedral. 

Hilda approaches the main building from the dorms and walks around a little before heading towards the reception hall. Just as she does, she catches sight of two figures leaving the hall hand in hand. She doesn't even need to get closer to know that it’s them. Again, that stabbing pain. It’s stronger this time, and Hilda feels like she might cry. She has to tear her eyes away and immediately runs in the opposite direction. She heads north, through the upper corridor of the Reception Hall and out onto the Bridge. She keeps going, her footsteps ringing loudly on the flagstone as she all but barrels towards the Cathedral. 

Hilda has never been particularly faithful, but right now she just needs to be anywhere but where Lin and Claude might be. Nothing against them, she’s honestly overjoyed. But for now, it is best not to think.

Hilda keeps going and even pushes open the doors to the Cathedral itself. Sure enough, there she is. Marianne, standing in front of the altar with her head bowed, hands clasped. Hilda lets out a sigh, relieved but also just slightly frustrated. All Hilda wants is to go back to her own bed and sleep to forget everything. But truthfully, Hilda didn’t think she had it in her to drag Marianne away from her prayers in the middle of things, so she elects to wait. 

Although, Hilda finds that even the tranquil calm of this holy place can’t quite silence those pesky voices.

However, Marianne does not take much longer. She finishes her prayers and makes to exit the Cathedral. “Hilda?!” Marianne’s soft voice exclaims and Hilda then sits upright from where she had been dozing on the pew.

“Oh Hey! You’re all finished then?”

Marianne pauses before reply. “Y-yes...I guess so.”

Hilda stands up and puts on a bright smile. “Well, I’m here to make sure you get back to your dorm in one piece. There’s a curfew now so we really can’t skirt around this one.”

Marianne’s eyes widen slightly. “Oh! Goodness...I must have—”

Hilda waves a hand. “It’s alright, I bet you were all absorbed in your prayers like usual. It’s really no big deal, as long as you’re back in your room with everyone else by sundown.”

Marianne then glances out the nearest window to see that the sun is now indeed very nearly at the horizon. “Ah, thank you then.”

“No need to rush, we still have some time after all.” 

Marianne gives Hilda a slightly quizzical look before continuing. “Well, in that case...would it be alright if,” her hands twist together at her waist. “I...really should have done it earlier but, I wasn’t quite sure.”

“Hm? What’s up. As I said, we have time. We can complete an errand or two before the curfew for sure.”

“Ah, well,” she manages to look up and meet Hilda’s gaze. “I really meant to...I was going to visit Linhardt in the infirmary.”

The plastered smile on Hilda’s face bitters. “Ah, uh—” Hilda should just say it, right? Marianne knows. Everyone knows. “Actually, I just saw Linhardt leaving the infirmary just before I got here.”

“Oh! That means that Linhardt was discharged, that’s good.” A very small and oddly soft expression floats over Marianne’s face. “Maybe then I can still...check on them at their room...”

Hilda forces out a laugh. “Marianne. I saw Linhardt and Claude leave...Together,” she says, placing her hands together to emphasise the point.

Marianne’s lips form a small ‘o’ of realisation. 

“I’m sure that Linhardt would love a visit from you though.”

“No it’s...I really should have taken my chance early. It’s my fault...I would only be a nuisance now.”

Funny how Hilda had just been thinking the exact same thing about herself, but when Marianne says it, she feels compelled to tell her otherwise. “Marianne no one in their right mind would ever think of you as a nuisance.”

Marianne seems unsure how to respond to that, only looks at Hilda balefully for a moment before glancing down. “I...” she swallows thickly. 

“Tell you what. If you’re worried about bothering Linhardt, I can take you to see them some other time.”

Marianne’s eyes widen. “Oh, no—I couldn’t possibly...”

Hilda has to hold back any sort of frustrated reaction. This is just how Marianne is, Hilda has come to learn. But really, it was fine. If Hilda could help others even a little bit...Her own problems felt less overwhelming. 

Hilda then offers Marianne a smile and gestures for them to leave the cathedral, heading back to the dorms in the late evening light. 

Marianne had been present for the entire incident, and things had frankly been so hectic that Hilda hadn’t even had a chance to check in with her. Luzia’s apparent death was hard enough to deal with, but for someone as devout as Marianne.

“Hey,” Hilda begins as they cross the bridge together. “If you don’t mind my asking...how are you doing with all this?”

“Oh...” Marianne glances at Hilda briefly then back to the path before her. “In all honesty...I haven’t any clue what to think...I have been praying to the Goddess for...so many things.”

“Did you ever talk to the Bishop?”

Marianne nods. “A little, once. Rather, she talked to me, at the stables,” Marianne pauses. “She was...very kind.”

Hilda nods, not having a particular response to that. “Kind” wasn’t exactly the impression that Hilda herself had gotten. Severe, perhaps was a better description. But, she seemed to inspire such loyalty in others...But also apparently enough hatred for someone to want her dead.

Was that what this was? Apparently, since Anara was being blamed for it all. None of that part made sense to Hilda. But even as she desperately wanted to ignore it all.

What did it mean? Claude and Anara. They barely knew each other but seemed like old friends, and Hilda hadn’t been kidding about that. When they followed Anara to the Chapel, Claude had been unquestioning. Even when Anara was nowhere to be found for hours...he alone vouched for her. He alone insisted that she be trusted. 

Claude was so secretive always, the idea that perhaps Anara had some kind of dirt on him prickled back in her mind. While it still did not make complete sense, it lingered.

Hilda sees Marianne to her room and then returns to her own. Out of the corner of her eye, she had spotted a couple at the pier but had elected to ignore it. She didn’t see the yellow house cape illuminated by the moonlight, nor the flurry of Linhardt’s signature magelights. She didn’t see it, and instead, she just went to bed.

* * *

* * *

* * *

_ Earlier that evening _

It felt stupid, reckless and sentimental. But Claude couldn’t very well break his promise to Linhardt, now could he? And it would seem that despite his better judgement, Anara’s words have gotten to him.

Claude himself hadn’t spoken with Luzia long, and honestly, from that impression alone, she seemed like she couldn’t be more different from Linhardt. Linhardt was distant at first, but he was always genuine. Linhardt didn’t even seem to know how to put on any sort of facade or pretence. Back when they first spoke, when Claude had shown that Linhardt was messing with him...even if Linhardt’s mannerisms had been played up, his sentiment was always true.

Which is to say, Claude didn’t exactly see from his impression of her, just whoever it was that Anara seemed so willing to die for. The way that Anara had spoken...with that level of warmth and gratitude. Claude could not deny that it felt familiar. Could Anara have somehow known? Had she spotted Linhardt and Claude together? Had she heard the rumours? Possibly, but sight and sound alone wouldn’t have given her that perspective. Her words had touched him so deeply because she had known the same pain that Claude still does. 

But all of that is complicated by the fact that Anara isn’t exactly free of all suspicion. Her lengthy absence around the events in question still throws a lot of things into question. But after their exchange today, Claude cannot conceive that Anara would conspire or even be complicit with Luzia’s death. Claude sympathises with Anara, pretty deeply, and that terrifies him.

As much as Claude will insist that his decision to defy Rhea’s ruling had been out of duty and dedication to protecting Luzia, he and anyone around him would know that was beyond ridiculous. Claude had to accept it. His emotional investment in Linhardt was now at a point that it could not be ignored. It was now something that was dangerous. Linhardt was a vulnerability, a liability.

But even so...the only place Claude had truly felt safe in recent memory, had been that night, falling asleep in Linhardt’s arms, the words of his homeland on both of their lips.

Despite this Claude has to delay his promise just a little longer. He checks in with the Deer, meets with the knights and even spares a moment for a personal smuggler contact to ask for a favour. He knows a little, he knows enough. He’s heard rumours of a place below Garreg Mach where people like survivors of an imperial rebellion might wind up. But it’s only whispers. The existence of the catacombs, and the many people that call it home, that is concrete enough, but putting a solid finger on who is actually down there? Now that is a far more difficult task.

By the time he has finished, it’s late into the evening. 

It is a bizarre tug of war. Somehow his desire to just run into Linhardt’s arms is stronger than ever, but so is the urge to run away and forget it all. Forget that there was even someone who looked at him with moon-kissed skin and flushed lips and said to him “I want you to stay.”

It would be easier, it would all be so much easier. But running away would mean betraying Linhardt’s trust. it would mean that he lied to Linhardt’s face. That was something that he could not allow to pass. 

When he enters, the screen shielding Linhardt’s bed is now fully pulled away, and he sees Linhardt sitting there, adjusting the brooch just under his neck as a final touch on putting on his fresh uniform.

Claude takes a step forward, making enough noise that Linhardt then looks up and meets Claude’s eyes.

Claude feels paralysed. Why is seeing Linhardt like this so overwhelming? They had just seen each other the night before. 

After a long moment, the corner of Linhardt’s eyes crinkle and the corners of his lips upturn. 

“Going somewhere, are we?” Claude asks, falling into his confident gait as he approaches. 

“Yes, in fact, I have just been discharged,” Linhardt says, his eyes following Claude.

“That’s great to hear, Linhardt.” Claude can’t help but let a genuine relieved smile form on his face. “What do you say I escort you back to your room?”

Linhardt glances down briefly. “In truth, I would greatly prefer not to be cooped up right about now,” he says while pushing himself to his feet.

Claude instinctually steps forward and braces Linhardt by the shoulder. 

Linhardt tenses from the touch but doesn’t pull away, looking up to meet Claude’s eyes briefly. “I know you must be busy, so I will not ask for much of your time...” 

Claude grins. “Now don’t you worry about that,” Linhardt was right, but Claude could afford to spend just a little bit of time like this. In fact, he dearly needed it. Even if there was now an increasing weight to their interactions now, being with Linhardt still had that lingering feeling of calm that it granted to Claude. 

“In that case...” Linhardt begins, appearing suddenly embarrassed. “Could you perhaps...walk with me a bit? I feel the need to fully verify that I am indeed still able to walk and move about.”

Claude chuckles. “Of course, it would be my honour,” he says, holding out his arm which Linhardt quietly takes.

They walk out of the infirmary like that, and down the stairs. However, once they hit the bottom floor, Claude pulls his arm away and quickly peers around for any sign of an observer. Linhardt watches Claude’s expression, a small look of concern forming in his brows and lips. 

Linhardt then very gently takes Claude’s hand, causing Claude to look back in mild surprise. “Let's walk through the gardens, then we can sit on the pier together.”

Claude nods, forcing himself to smile. “Sure thing, lead the way.” Claude tightly squeezes Linhardt’s hand as the mage leads him from the back corridor and out through the south of the Reception Hall.

It was still a bit exposed for Claude’s taste, but they couldn’t leave the Monastery at the moment. And so the two of them sit, hanging their legs off the end of the pier. The fisherman’s stall blocks the easy view of them from the dorms at the very least, and so Claude at the very least feels comfortable enough to sit as close to Linhardt as possible.

Claude then looks at Linhardt, observing how the water reflects the sunlight back across the planes of their gentle face. Claude also sees how Linhardt’s gaze lingers on the surface of the water, in a way that tells Claude there is an importance here.

They sit like that for a little while, their shoulders touching as they lean into each other’s warmth. Eventually, Linhardt moves his eyes away from the water and glances over to Claude. Linhardt stares at his face, intently and rather close. But instead of closing the distance, Linhardt pulls back, leaving Claude a little flustered and confused, but no less intrigued by whatever Linhardt is doing.

Linhardt is now staring down at their hands, and within a few moments sparks of light emit from those slender fingertips.

Claude follows the light with his eyes. It’s the same spell Linhardt used on their first adventure down in the tunnels. But instead of a single burning beacon, it’s a flurry of lights, like lazy oversized fireflies.

While Claude is still momentarily mesmerized by the lights, Linhardt has leaned in close again.

“Linhardt?” Claude asks, glancing over at the mage.

“I want to see your face clearly,” Linhardt states plainly. “Even if I can’t fully read you yet...still,” Linhardt nervously pushes a lock of hair behind their ear. “I find that I quite enjoy looking at your face, regardless.”

Claude cracks an impulsive grin. Still not quite reaching his eyes, but genuine all the same. “You sure know how to lay it on thick, don’t you? It’s impressive how much of a charmer you can be sometimes.” While a little joking, he means it, gently caressing Linhardt’s cheek with his thumb. 

Linhardt’s lips seem like they try to form a frown but fall open instead along with a small pleased sigh. 

These quiet moments were the ones that Linhardt had come to cherish the most. And he did intend to cherish them. Ever since seeing those bandits die by his hands at the Red Canyon, since seeing his own battalion soldiers fall before his very eyes; Linhardt knew that the end could come at any moment. And indeed, at the moment when that Demonic Beast’s claws plunged into him, Linhardt had been certain it was the end—

Wait.

Linhardt’s right hand suddenly shoots out and grabs Claude’s arm. Claude lets out a yelp of surprise but immediately reaches out in return to brace him. “Hey, Linhardt, is something wrong?”

“I....” Linhardt swallows, not wanting to shatter this moment but his nature compelled him. Information and truth were always far more important. “Claude I remember something. I remember something more from the attack.”

Claude’s face falls and his Lips press together. “Hey. It’s okay. You can tell me if you need to. But you don’t have to.”

Linhardt shakes his head. “No...I. This means that I lied. I lied to Edelgard. I need to—”

Claude’s hand moves to Linhardt’s back to start rubbing soothing circles. “Hey, I promise it’s okay. You were really roughed up, no wonder your memory was faulty. It’s not like you intentionally lied to her face.”

Linhardt’s face creases again but not in a cute pout or a light scowl. He looks genuinely distressed. Perhaps the firelights were exaggerating it, but Linhardt seems tinted with a kind of desperate emotion that Claude hadn’t yet seen from the mage. 

“You’re right. I told her that I did not remember anything else that I was confident in telling her but,” Linhardt shakes his head. “I remember now, something that makes it all make sense. I have to tell her.”

“You can tell her in the morning. I really don’t think that Edelgard will hold it against you.”

Linhardt still appears unconvinced, but he at least does not appear like he still intends to leave. And Claude was glad for it because of how deeply shaken Linhardt appears. Claude knew already about Linhardt’s extreme hatred of blood and seeing how revolted he had become at the sight of his own blood, in truth Claude almost wishes to try and protect Linhardt. It was completely ridiculous, as he even knows that any additional information was crucial. Even so, Claude wraps an arm around Linhardt’s waist and pulls him into a close embrace. 

Linhardt does not resist, instead, he rests his head against Claude’s shoulder and knots a fist into his shirt.

“Just rest some more, okay? I’ll take you back to your room. Get some sleep and you’ll be fine.”

Claude for his part did not intend to lie either, but it so often came with the territory. But for Linhardt it was different. It wasn’t moral or ethical, simply functional, and yet so much different that from how Claude used lies instead. Claude used lies as just another tool for survival. While for Linhardt...well, Claude isn’t quite sure, but it is something, different. Something about that acute desperation, it sticks in Claude’s mind, ripe to leave an impression. As Claude suspects that Linhardt’s capacity for deception will likely come up sooner rather than later, given how Claude’s own previous attempts at love had gone.

Claude leads Linhardt back to his room as soon as the coast is clear. Wordlessly, Linhardt clamps his has around Claude’s wrist and drags him inside. Claude couldn’t refuse, even if he wanted to. After they dressed down enough for sleep, they slide back into Linhardt’s bed as if this were the most natural thing for them. Linhardt climbs in first and lays with his back to the wall, waiting for just a moment until Claude climbs in after him and settles in. Close and under the covers, Linhardt lies there, however not yet pulling close as something is still on his mind.

“I remember now, I remember, being attacked.”

Claude keeps his gaze steady at Linhardt’s face, resting a supportive hand on his arm. 

“Before, all I remembered was, talking to her, and then…I woke up,” his eyes flick up to meet Claude’s, in recognition of Claude’s presence then.  “I also remember Luzia healing me,” lying on the floor gasping for air, the sickening, thick scent of blood blanketing him, smothering him. The pain had been unbearable, and even now he could not even bear to think of it. But like a miracle, the pain was extinguished. That familiar feeling of healing magic, of which he was so acutely aware. Whenever Dorothea or Veles healed him, among the relief he also felt it’s presence strongly. That foreign life energy stuck out and felt almost unsettling. 

And that is why, the memory had felt impossible, but it makes sense now. Her aura had felt so intently familiar that it had almost blended in with his own. That must have been the power of their shared crest. And if he thought about it further, Flayn’s magic also…

“I remember, Luzia crouched over me,” her own face dripping with blood, her headdress long since knocked from her head. “I tried to speak, but she bade me not to.”

Claude shifts just a little closer, his hand moving to rest on Linhardt's back. It was almost as if Claude could see what was being left unsaid. It was not often that Claude saw Linhardt's usually placid face so deeply affected. And this was indeed the first time he had seen Linhardt so thoroughly shaken. Claude found that it still hurt, to see Linhardt like this. 

“This is where the impossibilities begin,” Linhardt continues. “After that, I heard another voice, a woman’s voice, calling her name.”

Claude’s eyes widen. “A woman? Who?”

Linhardt shakes his head. “I cannot tell you.”

“Did you see them?”

“Not clearly. After that, I heard more voices, and I saw torchlight. Luzia left me and staggered towards them. Eventually, I saw all of the figures sink away into the floor,” Linhardt pauses.  “At the time, I had assumed that it must have been a figment of my imagination,” he says as one hand goes to cling to Claude’s shirt. “But then I remembered…”

“The tunnels,” Claude completes.

“Yes, precisely.”

“So, a few other people showed up, and took Luzia into the tunnels?”

Linhardt shrugs. “According to what I recall, that seems likely.”

Claude lets out a sigh, his brow furrowing. In all honesty, he did not want to have heard this now. It seemed inevitable now that he would stay of pondering the possibilities endlessly. But, with Linhardt so close at hand…perhaps it would be more bearable than usual. It was possible, that who Linhardt had seen had been Anara. Possible, likely even, but not at all confirmed. As much as he wanted to continue to pick away at this mystery, and how deeply he wanted to attack this problem with Linhardt's mind to aide him...At the moment, Linhardt was instead in dire need of comfort. Claude lets out another sigh and lifts a hand to Lightly touch Linhardt's cheek. "Is there anything else you would like to tell me?"

Linhardt glances up and then lets his eyes fall shut from Claude's deeply welcome touch. Honestly, Linhardt was thrilled and a little confused at how affectionate Claude had been acting this whole evening. It did make him wonder.

"Claude..."

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

Their eyes meet, and the warm expression on Linhardt's face is a bit overwhelming. But Claude stays put for the moment, watching the mage's eyes drift closed, their lips fall open as their breathing evened out. Only then did Claude remove his hand. He pulled the blanket off of himself and tucked it snuggly around Linhardt before rolling away and standing up from the bed as quietly as he possibly could. He picks up his jacket and slides on his boots. Claude had kept his promise, and now, he would do what had to be done. He owed it to himself, to the Deer, to find out what the hell happened. And truly he owed it to Linhardt too. Maybe he could be of more direct help to Linhardt by staying, by being there to hold him through any nightmares, to be there when he awoke; but that didn't stop the restless buzz in Claude's veins. He makes his way to the door with one last glance at Linhardt before he leaves. 


	10. Familiar Doubts Part I

** 30th of Red Wolf Moon **

Just as the season is turning towards Ethereal moon, with the monastery in a state of unprecedented tension, the Blue Lions class finally make their return. Their reception is far cooler and less pronounced than many might have expected. But, it was nothing against them personally, the events that took place in their absence all but defied description. 

In returning to the monastery, Dimitri was first greeted by Knights who had informed him that the students were to be confined by a curfew immediately. He, as the house leader was still allowed his certain privileges in order to keep his classmates in line, but that did not assuage the immediate prick of fear in the back of his mind. 

Despite his pleas, he was not yet permitted an audience with the Archbishop or anyone that could potentially give him answers. 

Dimitri, en route to the knight’s hall, finds himself approached from behind. He turns around his body tensing even as he sets his eyes upon the Eisner twins. His face at least, relaxes, as he sees an expression of worry painted on the face of the elder twin as she walks directly up to him with a question on her hands. 

“Caspar, where is he?”

“Ah, Professor Veles,” Dimitri manages to greet, only briefly glancing away from her hands to acknowledge her brother approaching from further behind her. “I have seen Caspar to his room, along with the rest of the Blue Lions,”

Veles' face relaxes and her hands lower to her sides, all but allowing her brother to take things from here. 

“I am glad that you and yours have made it back, Dimitri,” Bileth says, his smile warm in a way that makes Dimitri almost feel guilty for being witness to it.

“Ah, I thank you, professor,” he says while glancing away, perhaps in embarrassment, or perhaps in a lack of knowledge of precisely how to interact with the twin professors. While neither of them guided his class specifically, they still were quite present with the students of Blue Lions, and he was grateful for the help that the twins gave them.

“Professors,” Dimitri begins, his expression becoming grave. “I apologise for any inconvenience but,” he sighs. “Please. I have been kept all but in the dark about what has transpired here,” a fist clenches at his side. “If you are not busy with your own duties at the moment, please. I would ask you to enlighten me.”

Bileth and Veles both glance at one another.

“Have you not been briefed by the Archbishop?” Veles asks.

Dimitri shook his head. “No, I have not. Nor have I heard any word about the briefing for the coming moon,” he bows his head swiftly in a respectful gesture. “And so, I do ask you, genuinely.”

Bileth nods. “Where were you headed? We can accompany you there. No need to remain out in the open like this.”

“Ah yes of course,” he then steps to the side with a courteous gesture. “I was just on my way to the Knights hall.”

Even this late in the evening, it is odd to see the Knight’s hall so deserted. But with the heightened monastery security, and students confined to their rooms, it is to be expected. Dimitri stands near the fireplace, his arms crossed even as he attempts to adopt a welcoming countenance for the twins. 

Bileth meets his eyes with something approaching grim seriousness. “I will tell you, what has happened in your absence.”

For Dimitri’s part, the excursion to the Kingdom had been an unparalleled success. The negotiations with the Western Church had been shockingly smooth, and the Lions had mostly only been required to help guard the western monastery, as well as participate in training with the Knights stationed there. Caspar had not been the only non-native Faerghan among them. A decent handful of other Eagle students and a few Deer had also been invited or had requested to join them. Either they had little hope of being selected for the Special Mission, or a trip to Faerghus had been more appealing to them. Caspar however, even from Dimitri’s distant perspective, had perhaps been most excited because it meant more time to spend with his new friend Ashe.

“What do you mean, the Bishop was attacked?”

This revelation was like a full-body blow that threatened to throw Dimitri off of his already unsteady foothold. Two whole classes, as well as a large contingent of Central Church Knights, had been present, and yet—

The Eastern Bishop is missing. And her personal right-hand is now accused of her murder. Dimitri had not been given the honour of meeting either of them, but he was not about to draw any conclusions without more evidence, or proof! The twin professors, however, did not have any such proof, only that the Archbishop had unilaterally declared Anara to be guilty.

Dimitri remains silent for a moment, his head reeling as he grasps at what he must now do. “I thank you for your honest information,” he says before glancing at both of them. “Edelgard and Claude. I must speak with them as soon as possible.”

Veles and Bileth then glance at each other once again, Veles’ hands moving first. “Edelgard has been very busy. She only just returned from a sudden diplomatic trip herself.”

“I see,” Dimitri says, then looking to Bileth.

“I would suggest trying tomorrow, or later. Claude has also been very busy. He has been most dedicated to investigating the claims against Anara himself.”

Dimitri nods. “I understand. I would not want to hamper either of them, but I shall offer my aide when the chance arises.” He gives them both a curt nod, finally letting his arms fall back to his side as he now feels a bit at a loss of what to do. He is in truth, exhausted from travelling for the past week straight, but now he feels utterly drained. Even so, it feels unlikely that he will even be able to sleep.

At that moment, a fourth voice is heard from the entryway of the Knight’s Hall, and Dimitri looks up just in time to see Hilda poking her head in.

“Oh, fantastic, you’re actually here,” she says, her eyes going to Bileth immediately. 

“Ah, Hilda,” Dimitri remarks, stiffening again out of nervousness.

Bileth first glances to his student and then back at Dimitri rather apologetically. 

Hilda, however, doesn’t look at Dimitri or even Veles. “Hey professor, I just need to talk to you. It’s pretty urgent, is that okay?”

Bileth nods and then glances again to the two others. “If you will excuse me,” 

Dimitri and Veles both nod as Hilda and Bileth make to leave.

“Oh, Hilda, please do tell Claude the next time you see him, that I am available should he ever need something from me.”

Hilda’s back is already turned to Dimitri and so he cannot see the way her eyes widen and her smile stiffens. “Sure thing, your Princliness!” she says without thinking before grabbing her professor by the wrist and hurrying out of the knight’s hall.

“Hilda, what’s wrong?” Bileth asks, his face still calm, not questioning Hilda’s actions, but largely just concerned for her. 

“Oh it’s nothing, I just…was wondering if you knew where Claude was?”

Bileth shakes his head as they come to a stop in the gazebo gardens. 

Hilda lets go and looks around nervously, almost like Claude usually did. Almost as if in Claude’s absence, some of his paranoia had cropped up in her. 

It wasn’t uncommon for Claude to go missing for a day or more, but not like this, not without warning. Even when he wasn’t being dragged away by the ear by Judith to a round table, Claude had a habit of being hard to find for whole chunks of a day or only returning to his room at the break of dawn. As Claude had done the morning after escorting Linhardt out of the infirmary a few days prior.

However on this day, Claude had not shown up for class, and Hilda hadn’t run into him during dorm checks either. And as far as she knew, there was no such official alliance business that could account for this.

“Hilda,” Bileth replies in his usual calm and even voice. “I am sure that wherever he is, he will be fine. He will probably show up tomorrow.”

Hilda frowns slightly while meeting Bileth’s eyes. “…'probably’ isn’t very reassuring…” she sighs. “Well, I guess there’s no point worrying.” Hilda also didn’t want to risk getting in trouble for breaking curfew either. All that she could do was just hope the professor was right, and that Claude would show up soon enough with a grin and a convenient excuse. He always did, he always came back, that’s just a part of who he was. 

**1st of Ethereal Moon, 1180,**

However, as it turned out, Claude was still nowhere to be found come morning. It hadn’t been weird yesterday, but it was weird today. Claude had never been missing for this long before. He wasn’t at breakfast and didn’t show up to class. Now that Hilda thought about it, Claude had seemed a little less eager to seek out Linhardt in the last few days. Not that she had been observing closely or anything. It had merely piqued her interest. Either Claude was just that intent on clearing Anara’s name, or something had happened that night on the pier. But Hilda had no time to dwell on that, even as her current train of thought kept her barreling right towards this situation she would truthfully just avoid altogether if she could. 

When classes finally wrap up, Hilda lags behind. She really doesn’t want to harp on the Professor, she knows that Bileth had just been trying to reassure her…but it still stings. It hurts the most because she was right, and she didn’t want to be. Hilda had expected that Claude would still be missing. Being right was no fun when someone important was possibly in danger!

“Hilda,” Bileth says, walking towards her from behind the teacher’s desk. “I presume you are going to keep looking for Claude?”

Bileth was right on the money, but she didn’t feel quite like letting that slip. She stands up from her desk, keeping her eyes averted against her better judgement. “What do you take me for? I’m his assistant, not actually his retainer,” bad reply, Hilda. even someone as socially oblivious as Bileth can call that. He had, after all, been witness to her worry the night before. But Hilda honestly couldn’t help it. She had to deflect, she just had to keep up her appearance of composure. 

“Hilda,” Bileth says, taking another step closer. “It’s alright, I am worried too.”

Hilda glances at her professor but then immediately looks away again. “Yeah…and other people are going to notice too,” she sighs. “I’m sure we can find him. So we probably shouldn’t let anyone know we suspect anything, okay?” Hilda then looks back to her professor who nods in reply.

“I agree,” although Claude had been gone just long enough to be concerning, it wasn’t quite an emergency. It was just that at a time like this…with such danger afoot, they simply could not afford to take any chances.

Hilda taps her chin. “If anyone asks, just say that Claude was called suddenly to the round table. Okay?”

Bileth nods, as he did honestly need reminding about those political things. “I am going to be in the training grounds for a while,” he states, collecting his belongings and heading for the door. While it was part of his usual teaching duties, it was also likely that he too needed to find some sort of outlet for the worry. Even if he was difficult to read, it was clear that Bileth has become quite fond of Claude, and the worry about his safety that Hilda felt was reflected in a rare shift in Byleth’s expression.

“Okay, good luck!” She says brightly. “I’m exhausted honestly. I’ve been working so hard lately, I might even just need a nap,” despite this just being an excuse for the moment, it was true. Hilda had been having to pick up Claude’s slack the whole time he’s been distracted and now...missing.

Hilda watches Bileth leave and then straightens out her skirts to leave the classroom after him.

It’s vague, but Hilda has at least an idea of what to do. As much as it had hurt, seeing Linhardt and Claude tenderly embrace in the moonlight, as much as she had tried to forget it, she can’t ignore it now. For the moment, Linhardt is the only lead that she has, and she prays to the goddess that the mage at least knows something.

Right? Right. That’s what she keeps telling herself as she lingers idly in the courtyard outside the classrooms, surreptitiously waiting for Linhardt to come out of the Eagles’ room. She tries to look bored and nonchalant, sitting with her legs crossed on a bench that just so happens to have an unobstructed view of the Black Eagles’ classroom door and fiddling with her hair, until she spots the mage leaving. 

“Oh, Linhardt! Just the person I was looking for.”Her tone is bright and cheerful.

“Hilda?” Linhardt asks, clearly somewhat surprised to be approached by her. Perhaps he had noticed how she almost made a point to ignore him? Linhardt didn’t seem the type to pay much attention to those things, but his posture at the moment was nearly defensive.

“Got a sec? I could really use your help right now,” Hilda asks.

Linhardt’s posture relaxes only slightly. “What exactly do you need my help with?”

“Oh, nothing major, she shrugs,” she keeps her tone as nonchalant as possible. “Nothing that you with that big brain of yours can’t figure out at least!”

Linhardt doesn't show any visual reaction to her flattery. Clearly, the request must be nothing less than genuine. “That still tells me nothing about why you need me in specific.”

“Trust me,” she winks. “It’s just a bit of a secret so I can’t tell you here,” she then glances around before it comes to her. “Oh! I know. Let's just go to the library, then we can chat!”

“I suppose I have no reason to refuse, I was heading there anyway,” he shrugs, taking a few steps to her left in the direction of the library.

“Oh, thank you so much!” Hilda exclaims, darting after him and grabbing him rather suddenly by the wrist. 

“Wait—” Linhardt tries to protest but she is far more physically strong and so he is all but helpless, dangling after her like a limp doll. “Hilda!”

Hilda doesn’t say anything else on the way to the library. Unfortunately, what with it being so soon after class, it still was not the most private place, but she would have to make do. "Come on, this way. A girl needs some privacy." 

Linhardt's expression remains impassive at this. "I assume you will tell me eventually what it is exactly…”

“Don’t you worry, I will tell you everything,” she pulls on his arm towards the stairs and up, then all the way to the back of the Library’s upper level.

Once they were out of sight of any prying eyes, Hilda’s countenance rapidly changes and Linhardt feels a prick of alarm run up his spine. She finally lets go of his wrist but still stands quite close.

"I trust you can tell me now?" Linhardt asks, making a sweep for intruders himself.

Hilda lets out a sigh. ”Okay, so... Here's the thing." Something much closer to pain then floats onto her face. "It's Claude. He's...sort of...just a little bit..." She lifts her hand, squeezing her thumb and finger close together for emphasis. "...missing."

Linhardt frowns, the effect felt by that statement alone being quite noticeable. ”I don't think someone can go missing 'a little bit'," he quips without thinking. "Either he is or he isn't," his lips press together as he swallows thickly.

Hilda laughs nervously, hoping that the worry might just float away with it. "I mean, it's only been about a day and a half, I'd call that just a little bit missing." Even as she says it, though, she winces. "Anyway, the point is, only Professor Bileth and I know about it right now. Well, and you, obviously. We didn't think it was a great idea to go getting the Church involved after..." She waves a hand vaguely. "All that, you know. Stuff. Plus, Claude does not need everyone coming up with their own ideas for where he went.” Then her smile comes back, exuding confidence she does not feel. "So, the professor asked me to find him. And I thought, who better to help me do that than Linhardt? After all, it's not like he'd go anywhere without telling you.”

The expectant look she gives him causes a flit of pain to shoot through him “I’m not sure what exactly makes you think that,” he says neutrally. “I haven’t even spoken to him in days,” if one could even call a furtive glance across the courtyard ‘talking.’ The last time they had properly spoken had been the day after the attack.

"Oh? Days, really? Wow, if I had a boyfriend and he hadn't spoken to me in days, I'd be pretty worried! But I guess every relationship is different." She shrugs.

“Indeed,” Linhardt replies. “If I had a boyfriend like that, there would be cause for irritation, however,” he sighs. “To my understanding, Claude and I are not anything so official as that.”

Hilda presses her lips together. “So, you don’t know where he is? Not even a hunch?’”

His expression falters and he shakes his head. “No, I do not. Terribly sorry to disappoint.” Claude had been kind enough to leave a note on Linhardt’s desk that morning after, but he hadn’t so much as made an effort to speak to Linhardt in the days following.

Hilda’s surprise and confusion only just barely register on her face. But what was— all of that? The way that Claude had been so worried, so shaken by Linhardt’s death. The way he tensed up at the mere mention of Linhardt’s name. It had to have been something, right? Perhaps in any other situation, she would have felt a prickle of hope at this revelation, but at the moment it just adds to her mounting worries. 

“But still, you two are close. It’s got to be weird that he hasn’t talked to you for this long.”

Linhardt’s brows crease with frustration again. “It’s not uncommon. I’m not so entitled to think that he will ignore his duties just to indulge me,” he says nonchalantly, even as his face betrays some bitterness. 

"Back to square one, then, I guess.” She steps away from Linhardt and makes a few paces. Linhardt hasn’t seen Claude at all, and so in the end, Hilda is the only one with any clues. This isn’t what she had anticipated, and the pressure was already unbearable. She wracks her brain, thinking back."...Anara." Her voice drops low with suspicion.

Linhardt raises an eyebrow at that. “Anara?”

“Yeah, Claude spoke to her right after the attack,”

Linhardt’s lips press together, this being new information. “All I know about her is that she is meant to still be in church custody.”

“Yeah but,” Hilda glances back at him, a jumble of thoughts making the words harder to push out. “Claude has been acting weird ever since she showed up,” Hilda continues. “She must have said something to him, or maybe she has something on him,” she glances back to Linhardt. “I mean, it’s kinda weird that he was so insistent on seeing her so soon, yeah?”

Linhardt swallows thickly, having to concentrate everything on making sure he keeps his promise to Claude. “I do not find it strange. Claude believes her to be innocent.”

Hilda shrugs. “That I really don’t get,” Claude always seemed so unflappable, but Anara seemed to catch him off guard. The answer felt like it was right at her fingertips. 

“Well, it seems unlikely, given what we know. Luzia wasn’t exactly found with an axe sticking out of her. She was torn apart by monsters,” Linhardt immediately regrets his frank descriptor and feels his stomach lurch. 

“Sure, demonic beasts, I was there too you know,” Hilda says. 

“Still. It just doesn’t sit right with me,” Hilda crosses her arms. “Claude has been trying to prove Anara innocent, and he goes missing just a few days after talking to her? What if he got too close and he had to be taken out? Anara would have needed accomplices to pull off that attack, and they would still be on the loose!”

Linhardt’s expression becomes somewhat firm and he takes a step closer to Hilda which catches her attention. “Hilda. We do not know that it was Anara. Nothing good will come of making assumptions without more information.”

Hilda glances at him sheepishly and lets her arms fall back to her sides. “You’re right. I am…really just being paranoid now, aren’t I?”

Seeing how Hilda had started to panic, and even starts to fiddle with her hair, Linhardt feels a pang of something that must be sympathy. But he knows his limits, he is not equipped to offer her any sort of emotional comfort. “I, of course, want to find Claude as well,” he instead offers, though it was obvious.

“You are no totally off, however,” Linhardt continues. “Whoever did this, must have employed accomplices, at the very least.”

Hilda’s brow furrows again. Honestly, she just wasn’t equipped for this, but she just had to do something. She just couldn’t let Claude slip from her grasp if there was anything to be done about it.

Linhardt continues. “As far as I know, Anara is still in custody. I assume that we would have been notified should her execution have been scheduled.” Rhea would most likely want to make a show of executing the perpetrator of such a high-profile political act. “If Claude was able to see her, perhaps another house leader could at least request as such.”

It's a relief to hear him go along with her ramblings, even if they're not entirely sensible. And a relief, too, to know she won't have to bear the full weight of this responsibility alone. Maybe she can just...leave the thinking to him. That way, she won't end up leading them on some wild goose chase while Claude...she abandons that train of thought immediately.

"Another house leader--Linhardt, you're a genius! It's no secret that Edelgard doesn't always care for the Church, I'm sure Professor Bileth won't mind if we tell her. Which means it's all up to you now!" She pats his arm with an encouraging smile. "Don't worry, I'm right behind you."

Linhardt frowns slightly and winces at the pat, but doesn’t jerk away or show any sort of distaste for the contact as he might otherwise. Hilda was taking him seriously which did not leave him unaffected. 

“She may be my house leader but it is not as if I know her location at all times,” he sighs. “But I suppose that is our next course of action if we are now no longer in need of privacy. ” He then carefully slides himself out of the corner they had secluded themselves in and makes for the door of the library. He glances back at Hilda before leaving, and she does follow him closely as possible. Even if he and Hilda were not particularly close, and indeed, their one connection made their relationship somewhat contentious-- he is honestly glad to have her as an ally right now. Linhardt had tried to just ignore the pain that came from being ignored by Claude, but now, he had to face that, all of it. And at least he didn't have to face it alone.


	11. Familiar Doubts Part II

Edelgard stands by the professor’s desk, sorting through papers and progress reports. Veles never had much of a knack for such things, though she did always try. For the moment, Edelgard had encouraged her professor to instead tend to the training grounds where she flourished best. Such activities would also be beneficial in allowing the elder Eisner to work off some of the stress, along with the fact that her twin was likely to be there as well.

“Edelgard! I am so glad I caught you here.”

She stiffens at the sudden voice and prepares to turn around. Even without his voice, Dimitri’s identity was obvious by the heavy armour-plated boots and his long stride.

Edelgard makes sure to compose herself before turning around to meet him.

“Apologies if I am interrupting anything,” Dimitri continues, inclining his head into a respectful bow.

“Dimitri,” she replies with a note of surprise still colouring her voice, inclining her head politely in return.

Dimitri straightens and meets her gaze rather seriously. “I was wondering if I might have a word?”

“Of course you may. Is there something I can aide you with?”

"Actually, I was hoping I might aid you,” he says, even as her piercing gaze manages to make him swallow. Speaking with her always makes him stand just a little straighter, speak with a little more caution. Even though he always in such stiff control of hi behaviour, Edelgard alone demands it’s fullest extent. "Forgive me for bringing up such a distasteful topic, but, Bileth and Veles have been so kind as to inform me of what has taken place as of late,” he grimaces. 

“There is nothing that requires forgiveness, Dimitri,” she manages to upturn her lips into a small polite smile. 

Dimitri nods. “However I have...heard the most preposterous rumours. Among the speculations, some suspect you of in fact being the culprit. Due to the fact that the late Bishop's apparently had an, ah...low opinion of you." His expression turns stern. "I want you to know that I will not tolerate such slander. You have my full support, and that of my house as well."

Edelgard is frankly not sure how she is meant to respond to this. Despite what many may say, she is by no means emotionless, as was evidenced by how deeply this recent incident has in fact affected her. However, as always when she is faced with Dimitri, she feels nothing but this gnawing sort of emptiness where her natural reaction should be.

“I appreciate your offer of support, but there is no need. The quarrel that Luzia supposedly has with me is long in the past, with the administration of my father.” Part of it was, anyway. 

He expected this, but it is no less disheartening. "Be that as it may, know that I will not stand idly by while such accusations are made. I refuse to believe for even a moment that you would have had a hand in such a heinous deed, and I will make that clear to anyone who dares to say otherwise."

He doesn't notice the wood of the chair beneath his gauntlets cracking as his fingers grip it more tightly as he speaks.

Edelgard however has to hold back a barked reprimand. Why such a quick reaction it elicited from her, Edelgard cannot quite say. “I do not doubt it,” she says a little firmer than she would wish as she forces herself to look back up at him. 

Dimitri blinks and follows her gaze for the brief moment that her eyes flick downward...oh. He snatches his hands back from the chair as though it had burned him and, after an awkward second or two in which he isn't sure what else to do with them, clears his throat as he folds them behind his back.

“I only mean that there is nothing at present that I cannot handle myself as house leader,” she continues evenly. “For now, maintaining stability and steady progress is paramount for the wellbeing of our peers.”

"Of course. Questioning your capability never crossed my mind,” Dimitri replies, forcing his hands back at his sides. "I simply feel that, at a time like this, it's important for all three of us to stand together.”

“Again, I thank you for your offer—”

“Forgive me, but, Claude has been assisting you with this matter, was he not?”

Edelgard pauses before replying. “Yes, in that we were assigned to work together for this latest mission. What of it?”

“Ah. I simply then assumed that you two might also be working together in the aftermath.”

Edelgard does not reply. She has no response. She would not be opposed to it, as Claude was likely to get into trouble, learn too much to be left to his own devices, but she simply did not have the time to be chasing after him. Claude had told Edelgard about his visit to Anara, however complete that detail may have been, and since then, she has scarcely even seen him.

“Claude as well…he appears to be discussed in some connection to this incident, although I cannot imagine why.”

Edelgard replies promptly. “Rumours are often far removed from the reality of this situation, after all.”

“Ah, now I remember. It was about the suspect—I mean,” he clears his throat. “The Bishop’s protector.”

“If you are curious about that, then I suggest you ask Claude about it,” it was a rather dismissive reply, but that appeared to sail directly over Dimitri’s head.

“Perhaps I shall. And I will also speak to him about the prospect of use all three working together. I am sure he will be supportive of the idea.”

Edelgard is about to reply when they are cut off by a sudden third voice floating into the classroom. 

“Well… he might IF he were here…” 

Edelgard and Dimitri both turn to see Hilda entering the classroom, dragging a rather limp Linhardt behind her. Edelgard for her part is surprised to see Hilda at all, let alone her with Linhardt. But she has no time to interrogate this unlike pairing as Hilda makes to close the large classroom doors.

“Hilda? What do you mean?”

“I mean, Claude isn’t here. He’s missing.”

Edelgard’s eyes widen along with Dimitri’s, but Edelgard’s linger on Linhardt as he drifts towards them in Hilda’s wake.

“Missing?” Dimitri exclaims. “I would ask if you were sure but—” he meets her eyes solemnly. “If anyone would be sure about this, I know it would be you,” Dimitri’s gaze then slides to Linhardt. “Ah, Linhardt. I heard that you had been injured in the attack,” his smile brightens in a way that was clearly meant to be supportive. “I am glad to find that you are in good health. And I am certain that Caspar will be as well.”

Hilda came to a stop near the two leaders while Linhardt went immediately to sit at a nearby desk. Linhardt doesn’t reply to that comment. “Hilda has informed me that Claude has been missing for at least the last day,” he supplies, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “I have not seen him for at least the last three, myself.”

The severity of the situation keeps Dimitri from noticing that Linhardt had completely ignored him. “Have you any leads at all? When was the last that anyone saw him?”

“No need to panic there, your highness!” she says, remembering his normal title this time. “Linhardt and me already took care of that part!” She says with what was ostensibly a joking level of cheeriness. “What Linhardt and I came to ask you, Edelgard, is for permission to see Ser Anara!”

Edelgard’s mind continues to dwell on what could have possibly become of Claude, but she forces herself to reply. “I have no reason to deny such permission, but I am afraid that it is not mine to give. I myself have been unable to secure such in the recent days,” she raises an eyebrow. “May I ask why?”

Hilda hesitates to respond and so Linhardt answers.

“Hilda thinks that Anara might have something to do with why Claude disappeared.”

“Hey!” Hilda protests, quickly however shoving that reaction away and putting back on an angelic smile for the two house leaders. “It’s just a possibility! All I know is that he talked to Anara about some...things.”

“Indeed, Claude did inform me of that as well.”

With Hilda and Edelgard’s shared understanding, that did however leave the other two in the room in the dark.

Dimitri clears his throat. “If the information is not too confidential, what pray tell did he discuss with her?”

Edelgard’s gaze slides to Dimitri. “From what Claude told me, he merely wanted to ask for her side of the story.”

Dimitri places a hand to his chin. “It was mentioned that Anara was out of sight for a large portion of the incident.” A sudden thought springs to his mind. “Ah, Linhardt!” The sudden address causes the mage to start and he gives Dimitri a look not unlike that of a startled prey animal. The not unimposing prince takes a sudden stride across the group’s circle, approaching the desk where Linhardt sat. “You were present with Luzia were you not? Did you perhaps see Anara when she attempted to rescue you two?”

Linhardt’s body stiffens, and edelgard at least can tell that he is deeply distraught. “Dimitri,” Edelgard says firmly.

Dimitri then starts and a look of realization. “Ah! My apologies. The incident must have been quite traumatic for you.”

Hilda too feels a prick of concern and almost has a mind to walk over and try and comfort him. She however, doesn’t really know Linhardt. And if Hilda tries to comfort him and just makes things worse—

“I cannot be sure that I saw Anara, however,” he takes a deep breath. “Edelgard, please forgive me.”

Edelgard blinks. “Linhardt?”

Linhardt lets out a sigh. “There is more that I remember, that I can be certain of,” he says. Linhardt then relays again what he had told Claude those few days before. While his tone is low and blank, oddly, recounting the incident does not drag him further into that dark place. Instead, he just remembers Claude’s arms around him, the warmth of his breath, and that look; that straight-forward, almost enraptured look that Claude always had when Linhardt spoke. 

Edelgard and Dimitri still very carefully ponder this information. “You say that the figures disappeared into the ground?” Dimitri asks

“Yes,” Linhardt replies. “Considering that chapel was a part of the Monastery’s initial construction, I believe it is safe to postulate that it also possesses underground tunnels much like the rest of the Monastery.” 

Linhardt states this as if it is meant to be common, every day knowledge. And given that Edelgard and hilda nod along and seem to regard it as such, Dimitri then makes sure not to let his continued surprise be too obvious. 

“I...told Claude of this as well,” Linhardt says. 

“You told him? how recently.”

“When I last properly spoke with him, the day after the attack.”

“I see.” Edelgard did truly worry for Claude, as he seemed physically unable to leave a mystery alone. But what worried her the most was what she might be forced to do if he ever followed that unravelling string to it’s final conclusion.

Hilda frowns. “Sorry but, I just can’t shake the feeling that there was more to him visiting Anara.”

Dimitri rests his hand on his chin. “Now, pray tell, what do you mean by that?”

Hilda shifts uncomfortably. “Claude has been acting...weird ever since Anara showed up,” she sighs, considering how much to tell. “I also feel like there must be some kind of connection between them.”

Linhardt stiffens again, subtle enough that only Edelgard noticed. “Regardless, I believe that our purpose was to try and see her for ourselves. As Edelgard has told us that is not possible, we best move on to some other possibility,” Linhardt offers.

Dimitri nods, letting his hands fall back to his sides. “Speaking of which, Edelgard,” he turns to her. “You mentioned that you yourself were unable to contact her. Do you know any reason why that may be?”

Edelgard presses her lips together and glances around the classroom instinctively. This place was hardly private, but she knew that Hubert was lurking nearby to make sure that it was as secure as possible. She trusted him, and at the moment, Edelgard had to continue to keep as much suspicion from herself as possible. 

Edelgard considers how much more to say, especially with Dimitri still present. She indeed feels nothing against him, but his insistent trust of the church does not instill confidence. Her instinct is as always to keep everything hidden and close to her chest, but at the moment there was something more important. If Claude was indeed in danger, she felt at least compelled to try. 

“This is something of an open secret, as it will become evident over time. However, according to my information, Anara has been released under the conditions not unlike that of a prisoner exchange.”

“A prisoner exchange?” Dimitri gapes at her for a moment. “With whom? I would not have expected the Archbishop to compromise on a matter as dire as this. Even if the allegations against Ser Anara are indeed false, Lady Rhea seems to believe otherwise. Whose capture could be important enough for her to accept such an exchange?”

Edelgard’s jaw clenches. “That expectation is likely why it has been kept rather quiet,” she remarks as neutrally as she can. “I do not know exactly. The Church has no shortage of enemies, but an exchange for the true culprit is a likely possibility.”

Dimitri frowns. “But why would she keep their identity a secret, and frame an innocent woman?” 

This assertion further enforces Edelgard’s resolve to keep him at arm’s length from this. The mages who had been caught trying to “assassinate” the archbishop all those moons ago, they had been killed without trial, without even confirming that they were in fact of the western church. And Dimitri himself had spent this past month aiding and abetting Rhea’s solidified control over the devastated western Church. 

Linhardt shrugs. “Well, if she got the wrong person, perhaps she doesn’t want anyone to know about the mistake.”

Dimitri directs a flabbergasted look at Linhardt. “But still! I cannot imagine that The Archbishop would—” he balls his fists, making sure to not touch anything this time as the anger roils. “I cannot stand for this. As I said, I will not stand idly by,” he turns back to edelgard who had remained pointedly silent. “Edelgard please. We simply have to do something. If you know anything else, about where Anara has been taken—”

She is not unaffected again by his shift in demeanor, and again, her reaction seems more than it should be. But she moves on. Focusing on the present, on what is before her.

“I agree Dimitri that this must be resolved as quickly as possible. However discretion must be our top priority,” she pauses. “I doubt that the Archbishop will look kindly on any other drastic defiance after last moon.”

Hilda slides down off the desk to come closer to Edelgard, expression sober. "Agreed. I don't want to do anything that could put Claude in more danger than he might already be in."

She then gives Dimitri a firm look. “I do have a suspicion, but it is imperative that what I tell you does not reach the ears of the Church, or ideally anyone else.”

He bows his head in acquiescence. "Of course. I understand completely. Until we know more, the safety of everyone here shall be my top priority. You have my word."

Edelgard nods in affirmation at both Dimitri and Hilda. “And I will take you at your word I appreciate your assistance greatly.” Edelgard then glances over at the one who had yet to speak up. “Linhardt...” her face then again shifts with just a hint of softness. “I appreciate you sharing what you remember with us, I feel I must reiterate this. But know that there is no obligation for you to help.”

Linhardt looks up and meets her eyes. Just like before, when she had been comforting him after the attack, he hardly knows how to respond. And that conversation over all, had covered so much. Linhardt wants to be able to meet her, to perhaps even repay some of what she gave him. And undeniably, he just wants to know that Claude is alright.

“Indeed, even if there was obligation I would not feel compelled to follow it,” he pauses. “I also wish to know what actually happened to Luzia. I do not think that there can be much worse in store than what I have already experienced in that regard.”

Edelgard dearly hopes that will be the case, but in truth she cannot guarantee it.“I will be grateful for your contribution, of course.” She then lets out a short breath, addressing all three of them again. “How much do you know of a place called ‘Abyss’?”

Claude, for his part, knows plenty, at least now he does. Like, for instance, he knows exactly how good its inhabitants are at surrounding a guy and knocking him out. He also knows that their taste in furniture really leaves something to be desired in the comfort department, because the chair he's sitting in is pretty unimpressive.

As he slowly surfaces back to consciousness, he carefully keeps his eyes closed and tries not to move while he takes stock of the situation. Hopefully he can learn something that will get him at least close to whoever got the jump on him. First observation: he is tied up, and pretty securely at that. His wrists are tied together, his feet to the chair legs, and a coil of rope around his chest for good measure. Whoever they were, either they were paranoid, or they just considered Claude to be this much of a threat.

As his mind wakes up more and more, Claude is able to quell those spikes of panic within him. After all, if they wanted him dead, Claude wouldn’t be alive to try and work his way out of this situation. 

Finally losing his patience, Claude opens his eyes, bringing his head up and trying not to let his pounding headache show on his face. As he'd pretty much expected, there's someone standing there, clearly trying to look intimidating.

So he grins widely. "Do you stand there and watch all the boys sleep after you've dragged them off to your secret lair, or am I special?"

“Secret lair?” The man gives an amused smirk, shifting his weight onto one leg. “You speak as if I am some kind of mastermind that has whisked away an innocent noble boy,” he says while pointedly keeping the intruder’s gaze. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Claude observes him. A young man, not much older than himself. Slight in frame, but he can’t let that potentially deceive him. This guy looks almost like a noble himself, what with his manicured appearance on top of what looks like a house leader uniform. But everything else about him screams something else entirely.

The young man continues. “You are a certain kind of special, I suppose,” he huffs. “Either that or you’re a special kind of stupid to be poking around in matters that don’t concern you,”

“Hey now. Isn’t that a bit harsh? I’m not the one who had his goons take out an innocent lad who was just indulging his curiosities!”

The stranger scoffs. “You’re right. I would have to be utterly brainless to order the next duke of Riegan tied to a chair in my ‘secret lair’,”

Another slight stab of panic goes through Claude. "You already know who I am, do you? Unfortunately I can’t say the same about you.” He moves to gesture with his hand, but instead is forced to just nod in the direction of the stranger’s cape. “Most people wearing a uniform like yours, proclaim their noble title and lineage before even a handshake can be offered.”

The stranger scoffs. “Curious are you, who I am?”

“I have to say that I am,” Claude replies. 

“Well for starters, yes, I do have the position of House Leader, as it were. But i didn’t get it by being born into the right family,” his posture relaxes and he places both hands on his hips. “I’ll give you this much, as a token of good will. My name is Yuri Leclair, leader of the ashen wolves class.”

As is seeming to be the trend with this guy, each answer just spawns more questions in his mind. “Well then Yuri, now that we are on a first-name basis. How about we keep up this little exchange, and maybe both of our questions can be answered.”

Yuri raises an amused eyebrow. “Alright then. How about you answer my first question, why were you investigating Abyss?”

“So suspicious!” Claude tuts, wagging a finger although it is still tied behind his back. “I didn’t threaten anyone, I didn’t even draw my weapon. All I did was poke around, and next thing I know I’m being tied up and questioned!”

Yuri crosses his arms over his chest. “Surely you can give me some leeway to be a bit over-cautious, given the recent chaos. We may be underground, and the church likes to pretend that we don’t exist, but we are still a part of this place at the end of the day.”

“Sure, I can understand paranoid. But did you really have to send a gaggle of goons to take me out for asking questions?”

Yuri sighs. “I’ll be honest. This is all a bit embarrassing for me. I caught wind of someone poking around the last few days, and I gave the order to have the rat taken in. But believe me, if I had known who you were, I would have taken far less drastic measures.”

“I’m touched, really,”Claude replies. “It sounds like you weren’t anticipating that someone of my...social standing would be on the other end of the blade, huh?”

“Yes, unfortunately,” Yuri’s fingers tap on his upper arm. “I don’t know how much you know about this place really, but you must know that people usually don’t try to find their way down here just for kicks.”

“What do you mean? I for one am having the time of my life being drugged and bound in a damp bunk room,” Claude says with a raw smirk. “Then enlighten me. What do people usually come here for?”

Yuri’s eyebrow twitches with slight irritation. “In my experience, there is only a few reasons,” he lifts a finger to begin counting out his points. “If they have some kind of shady business to conduct,” he lifts another finger, “if they have nowhere to turn,” his ring finger remains in place and he lifts his pinky, closing his first two fingers back under his thumb. “Or, if they are looking for someone who was after either of the former.”

“So either looking to cause trouble, or look for someone who doens’t want to be found.”

“Precisely,” Yuri pauses. “However, now that I know who you are, unfortunately the amount trouble that you could bring to my People multiples ten-fold.”

Claude nods in understanding. “I guess that explains the rope-bondage.”

Yuri was right. If a noble got themselves killed down here, it would bring the wrath of a full territory down on them. If there was some sort of assassination or deal, the ramifications could last months. And if they were looking for someone in hiding, someone with a large army could easily get what they want. And so, Claude understood the level of caution, but it still didn’t make him feel better about being tied to a chair. 

Yuri sighs. “As I sincerely doubt that you decided to poke around here after a major catastrophe out of simple curiosity, you’d best explain yourself.”

Claude nods, his fingers splaying out where they were bound behind them. “You got me there. Sure I wanted to follow up on all the things I’ve heard, but of course I have another reason.”

“Please, enlighten me.”

“Not to worry, I’m not here for any of your People. Unless you or one of them had something to do with that 'chaos' you mentioned." His tone is still casual, but his eyes have become more than focused, now deeply examining his captor.

“There, finally something solid. Now was that so hard?”

“I’ve gotta say. It’s a little difficult to be open and honest when I’m still tied up here.”

Yuri groans. “I can’t fault you for wanting answer, I’ll admit, there are things that I still want to know as well.”

“Well, since we are on the same page there, and you know I’m not a threat to your people, what do you say to untying me so we can have a little chat on equal footing. One house leader to another.”

“I suppose I don’t have any good reason not to,” Yuri says, letting one hand fall to his belt to unsheathe a dagger. “As an apology for the rough treatment, I can do this as much,” he says while walking over, keeping the blade pointed away from Claude as a show of good faith.

Despite this, Claude still can’t help but tense up when he sees the blade glint in the light. He can’t help but assume this is a ruse and Yuri has just decided that Claude is enough of a nuisance to just get rid of. But no. Yuri didn’t appear to be lying before. And if it is all true, his primary concern is for the residents of abyss. Unfortunately, Claude had been dragged down here unconscious, and so hadn’t so much as even seen who Yuri had been referring to. But with any luck, Claude might still get another chance yet.

Yuri makes a point of staying in front of Claude while taking care of the bindings. First the ankles, then chest, and finally his wrist. Once he’s done, he pulls back, sliding the knife back into it’s sheathe.

Despite Yuri’s watchful gaze, Claude seems unconcerned for the moment and busies himself with his returned mobility.

“Don’t worry. I’m not stupid enough to try and escape,” he grins, pushing himself up from the chair to stretch. “I already know what you and your ‘people’ are capable and I’m not exactly eager for a second taste.”

“Good to know that you aren’t actually stupid like I feared,” Yuri replies, walking over to lean against the windowsill, making sure to keep Claude in full view.

Claude gives a gamely chuckle and walks over to lie down on a nearby bottom bunk, letting his eyes fall closed to hopefully ease his pounding headache. He just takes a few moments to breathe, to let the thoughts calm down and fall into place in his mind. He still doesn’t know anything about this place, who the Ashen Wolves are, where there is a secret fourth class at all, but for the moment he has more pressing concerns.

He lets out a breath, lifting his hands to indicate his speech even as his eyes remained closed. “Now, onto that pressing House Leader business I mentioned,” he says, hearing Yuri shift next to him. 

"As you probably already know that someone let loose a demonic beast in the chapel, which supposedly killed the bishop of the Eastern Church,” he says, while his mind brings up the additional casualty of Linhardt. The mage’s face linger’s in his mind, but it’s not like that was at all relevant to bring up. Despite that, it is certainly a pretty significant factor in why Claude was down here to begin with.

Yuri lets out a huff of his own. “We did indeed hear about that little incident. And I mean, hear, literally. Some tunnels in that area are so close to the surface you could hear the beasts stomping about through the ground.”

"I'm sure you did. I've used some of those tunnels before myself, though I didn't know where they led until recently." Claude’s eyes open, despite his lingering discomfort, but he can’t just keep himself vulnerable for more than absolutely necessary. ”But what you might not know is that Archbishop Rhea claimed to have found the culprit awfully quickly, putting the bishop's own aide behind bars for her supposed crime."

Yuri’s eyes slide over to regard Claude. “I heard the Archbishop’sproclamation alright. She also was so kind as to oblige us with additional security,” he grumbles. “So that’s why you got curious. Thought that the culprits or even any survivors would have passed though here?”

“You said it yourself. Shady business and people who want to disappear wind up here, Claude replies. “But I have to ask, what makes you doubt the Archbishop’s story?”

“Lets just say I have some personal experience with how the church likes to deal with inconveniences,” he says dismissively. “Additionally it just doesn’t match up with any of the information that I’ve been privy to.”

The more Claude talks to this guy, the more he gets the urge to suppress his natural instinct to ask questions, if only to deny Yuri the satisfaction of wielding the power to answer or not, at his discretion. “Mind if I ask what information that is, exactly?”

Yuri tilts his head to the side. “Luzia was a pretty obvious target for assassination to begin with. She has enough enemies just for being associated with the church, not to mention whoever might come after her for the skeletons she might have in her closet.”

“Regardless, I don’t think many of those people will have access to demonic beasts, or the means to get them past monastery security,” he says, gesturing idly with his left hand. “So i think that narrows down the possibilities quite a bit. It has to be someone who has been at Garreg Mach a while, someone who not only knows the place, but is trusted,” he says, his expression souring slightly. This supposition in fact was part of what he viewed exonerated Anara.

Yuri raises an eyebrow. “You think there must be someone on the inside? That wouldn’t surprise me personally.”

“Now what was that about proprietary information of yours?” Claude tries to grin, but in truth he still feels pretty shimmy and physically awful. 

Yuri lets out a sigh. “I usually don’t share my proprietary information without a fair trade. But I’ll give you a little taste.”

“Ah, how magnanimous of you, all-powerful Lord of the Underworld. I’ll be sure to get on my knees and genuflect next time.” He yawns deliberately.

Yuri rolls his eyes. “The information I have is about that Ser Anara herself, she has friends down here. She was poking around a lot, not unlike you were. She managed to be a bit more discrete about it, but I wouldn’t be suprised if someone noticed. All I know is that Anara thought an attack might be coming and was making preparations herself.”

“This taste of yours isn’t much of a bone to throw, though, since we’ve already established that I came here looking for her in the first place.

Yuri pushes himself off the windowsill and looks down at Claude with crossed arms. “I really can’t offer you much, but what I can offer is to tell my guys to look the other way if you want to stick around and dig up some juicer bones yourself. So, what can you offer me in return?”

Claude tucks both hands behind his head and lifts his eyebrows, looking up at Yuri. “Choose to stick around? Two minutes ago you were ready to stab me if I tried to escape. Forgive me if I don’t take your sudden change of heart at face value.”

“Maybe i’m just trying to get in the good graces of the next alliance bigshot. And with that, I’m not actually stupid enough to off the next Riegan heir. There’s enough people in Fódlan that want me dead already.“

Claude actually laughs. “You say that like the world isn’t filled with people who have tried. You must be a genius by comparison, I guess.”

“In truth you have the upper hand, you can just walk away. Or you can take my offer, it’s up to you,” he shrugs. “But really, I admire your spirit a bit. It’s not like a noble brat to take things into his own hands. Maybe I’ve just sensed a kinship and am willing to give you a little slack.” He says with a flattering motion of his hand.

Claude watches Yuri for a long moment. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to pry more out of this guy, not to mention the rest of Abyss. And he did come here for a reason. But Claude still has no idea how long he was unconscious, and if he’s gone for too long, someone’s going to start looking for him. Then again, if he leaves once, Yuri’s unlikely to let him come back.

“And who’s to say that if I did walk away, I wouldn’t send the knights down here after the people who kidnapped Duke Riegan’s grandson? You’re taking an awfully big risk, trusting someone you just met, aren’t you? One of those ‘noble brats’ you really seem to despise, at that.” He can’t deny that they do seem to have some things in common. Like people in Fódlan wanting them dead.

“I have to play the hand I was dealt. I went hunting for a rat but found a duke’s heir instead. I’ve got to adjust my strategy. I’ll be happy to let you go with the understanding that this was just an unfortunate misunderstanding.” 

“More unfortunate for one of us than the other,” Claude grumbles.

“And believe me, I’m not trusting you by any stretch of the imagination. If the knights come after me I’ll figure out a way to weasel out of that when the time comes.“

Claude chuckles. “I like the way you think. And I think I will take you up on that offer to snoop around while I’m here, since I doubt you plan to extend the invitation twice. As for what I can offer in return…” he shrugs. “Like you said, I’m a duke’s heir. I know all kinds of things, and all kinds of people while we’re at it. What do you want?”

“The best favour you can do for me is just act like you were never down here,” Yuri replies. “And you’re right. Things are too tense for upworlders to walk in and out as they please. I’m telling you to get out for your own good as much as mine.”

Claude lightly slaps both hands on his knees. “In that case, I don’t suppose I have time to lie here and nurse a headache, huh?” He sits up slowly, and then stands. “If you have any leads for where to start, I’m all ears. The faster I learn something useful, the sooner I can get out of your hair and pretend I fell down a well or something. ”

Yuri gives Claude a smile that’s less constructed and perhaps just a bit amused, even understanding. “As it so happens I like the way you think too. I’ll tell you where to go, and keep my people from bothering you. Shouldn’t take too long, you’re probably going to be missed on the surface soon enough after all.”

“I sure hope someone misses me up there,” he chuckles before awkwardly trailing off. Yuri mentioning this gives Claude an unpleasant suspicion. ”About that...how long was I out?"

“You’ve been out for at least a day by now. It’s about midday now on the 1st.”

“What!?” Claude exclaims. :That’s a day and a half, someone had better be missing me by now!” Midday on the 1st means he’s missed two days of class…Teach must be doing something by now, right? How they’d find him, though, he has no idea. “Uuugh. I really should hurry, then.”

“Again, that wasn’t my intention. You just don’t go down easy, so things had to get a little rougher than the standard.”

“Well of course! I told you how many people have tried to kill me!” Claude is losing a bit of his composure as more of the weight of things start to sink in.

Yuri however remains with that amused look on his face. “Let’s just hope I don’t need to keep that in mind for the future, yeah?” He grins, stepping to the side to fully clear his way. “Follow me and I’ll get you what you need to know.”


	12. Familiar Doubts Part III

Abyss—The common name for the catacombs below Garreg Mach. Vast and sprawling and beyond the full comprehension of even most of its residents.She told her three companions what she knew, which wasn’t much. She knew that Abyss was a refuge to some, and criminal underground to others. It offered a place for those rejected by the surface world to live, or to scrape by with whatever means they could. 

“Dimitri,” Edelgard had said, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “You offered your aide, and so I will ask this of you,” she grimaces and glances away from a brief moment. “You must keep a handle on things here while I retrieve Claude.”

Dimitri had almost protested, but the grave nature of this situation was clear to him. “You will not be going alone, I trust?”

Edelgard shakes her head. It was clear to her that Linhardt and Hilda would likely not be so easily swayed to stay behind. “These two will accompany me, I presume?”

Linhardt and Hilda both stare back at her for but a moment before nodding. Linhardt, surprised that she would want him along, as he can scarcely be called more than a liability. And Hilda, e bit relieved that she wouldn’t be made to stay behind and just keep worrying.

Edelgard nods. “I will direct Hubert to assist you where needed,” Edelgard says. While in truth, Hubert was going to be the one keeping an eye on Dimitri. Hubert would know to be wary of the prince acting against her wishes, which was highly likely. Edelgard could only hope that he would truly comply. 

Edelgard then allows for Hilda and Linhardt to prepare, before leading them to the secluded alley behind the student dorms. With a whisper, a few coded words and a solemn nod, the merchant then lead them deeper into a hidden trap door at their feet. Linhardt only had vague outdated documents, and Hilda only had rumours from their brother; but they were not overcome by fear. Edelgard’s confident figure, and the goal of finding Claude was enough to keep them moving. 

Edelgard had not expected any sort of eager welcome, wandering into Abyss was not uncommon in abstract, but it did not take long for it to become clear that the surface of Garreg Mach was not the only place experiencing heightened tensions.

The merchant hands them off to an abyss resident. A woman, it appeared, of a rather tall stature with an imposing countenance. She did not speak, and her face was covered by a full-faced helmet. Her insistence on silence would be suspicious in any other circumstance, but Edelgard knew enough not to dwell upon it. She after all knew what sort of circumstances forced people into Abyss, and how often their anonymity was the only thing keeping them safe. 

The woman and Edelgard could still communicate in signs, and they did so, the woman guiding the three of them into the underground city. Along the way they came in contact with who appeared to be scouts and informants who sprinted ahead. 

Linhardt and Hilda continue to trail along silently, undoubtedly consumed with all manner of questions that would have to wait for later. And not all of which could she even oblige with an answer.

Their liaison leads them through the tunnels until they eventually came upon a locked iron gate. She opened it swiftly with a key on her person and allowed them through, locking it securely behind all four of them. Ahead of them was a stone corridor with stone arches and torches lining the path ahead of them. Two other paths spread out to the left and right of them. She leads them to the right, along the bending corridor to where a large set of doors stood open.

Entering, they found themselves in what appeared to be a classroom, complete with rows of desks and even some apparent students milling about. Near the blackboard at the front of the classroom stood one whose appearance set him apart from the rest. Among them too were the two messengers that had been alerted of the newcomers’ presence earlier.

“Now, would you look at this, yet another house leader has rolled down from upstairs,” the stranger says evenly.

“What does that mean?” Hilda asks, stepping forward to Edelgard’s side. “Does that mean that—” Edelgard holds out an arm and silences her with a look.

She looks back at Yuri firmly. “It would appear that you have already in essence answered what we seek. We are looking for Claude, the Golden Deer house leader.”

Yuri meets her eyes, his arms remaining folded across his chest. “I would ask what lead you to think he’s down here but honestly I don’t care. Claude has been down here far longer than I would ever want, and I assume that you three can scamper back upstairs once you find him, yeah?”

Hilda’s lips form into a pout, but she manages to keep from speaking up again. She was supposed to be letting Edelgard handle things from here after all. Linhardt however, was still very quiet.

“Indeed, you have assumed correctly,” while Edelgard had never been into Abyss herself, she was not unfamiliar. Hubert was the one who furnished the spies and kept an eye on things below. He had always been rather insistent on keeping her out of this place, but given the severity of recent events, Hubert seemed to know that he would not be able to keep her from it. “Simply inform us of where we can find Claude and we will be on our way.”

Yuri gives a dry chuckle. “Such a shame, you just missed him. Claude ran into a little trouble on the way down here and has been sleeping tight for the last day or so. He just woke up, I swear, right before you got here,” he said, one of his arms forming a seemingly casual, but really quite calculated gesture. “I told him that he could snoop around for just a bit before I lock the door behind him. So, unfortunately, I don’t know his exact location at the moment.”

“How do we know you’re not just Lying?” Hilda asks suddenly.

Yuri regards her with something far too close to a sneer. “Now, what would I have to gain from that? All I want is for you lot to leave here as soon as possible. Lying that your friend is here won't’ get me what I want, will it?”

Hilda grimaces. “Yeah? Well I don’t see any reason we should trust you yet.”

Yuri gives a slightly impressed huff. “You are free to believe or disbelieve as you wish. You can also choose to wait here for Claude to pop up again, or go ahead and look yourself, I won’t stop you,” Yuri then nods to their liaison. “Our bouncer here will make sure you leave promptly if it comes to that.”

“I assure you that it will not,” Edelgard replies. “We have no quarrel with you or your people.”

“Indeed.” Yuri’s face then takes on a rather sudden shift into one of contemplation. “You are Edelgard, correct?” He does not attach any of the appropriate titles, but he clearly knows who she really is. 

“I am.”

“A pleasure to finally meet you,” he says, while his face clearly displayed otherwise.

“I am, however, only vaguely aware of who you are.”

Yuri shrugs. “I am Yuri Leclair, leader of the Ashen Wolves class,” he continues, appearing to be a bit bored of this exclamation. “Don’t get too in a tizzy about it, this fourth class was only formed recently,” he says, gesturing to the people around them, several of them in those mirror-image white uniforms. “We are largely former students who for one reason or another cannot live above ground.”

Again, questions were broiling, but they had no time. This was just so much in the face of everything that they understood about their school. And indeed, it only served to enforce the growing doubts and suspicion for Hilda and Linhardt, two people who would be much happier if they could just ignore it, but soon enough these secrets underground would reveal themselves to only be even further untwined with their own lives. 

“Anyway,” Yuri continues. “Claude seemed pretty worried about how long he was out, I suspect he won’t stick around too long.”

Linhardt narrows his eyes. “And why exactly was Claude unconscious for the last day as you claim?”

“Abyss is a dangerous place, I’m sure Claude knew that before poking around. Yuri then turns back to Edelgard. “Claude was looking for information about that recent incident that took place. Can’t blame him. I don’t suppose you lot are after the same?”

Edelgard replies. “At the moment, our priority is to confirm that Claude is indeed alive and safe as you claim.”

“You have my word, princess.”

Hilda fidgets and then finally speaks up again. “Uhg fine, Linhardt and I will go look for him. Do you seriously not know at all where he is?”

Yuri shrugs. “I told him about the library and the tavern. Ask around and you can find your ways there I’m sure.”

Linhardt Looks about to speak up when he finds his wrist being suddenly grabbed by Hilda again. 

“If you are going to be here for a while, I suggest that you come with me.”

“Very well,” Edelgard replies. 

Yuri gestures for his guard compliment to leave him, and he indicates for Edelgard to follow him with a jerk of his head. He leads her away from the classroom, through the market area and over a large stone bridge. After they were a decent distance away, Edelgard spoke up.

“I assume you required some privacy, but my patience is not infinite,” she says with a firm glance his way. “Where are you taking me?”

“I am escorting you, Princess to find what you truly seek,” he smirks. “Luzia of the Eastern church or rather— Lukrezia von Hrym as she is more aptly known down here.”

“She’s Alive?!”

“Yes, well,” he coughs into his hand. “I’ll warn you. She did not exactly come out unscathed. While she is physically healthy—” he presses his lips together. “I think she is going to need a proper healer, unfortunately.”

“Well, her being alive is a relief at least,” Edelgard replies.

Yuri scratches the back of his head. “I feel a little bad. I ended up having to keep this from Claude for no reason. I only hope he hasn’t gotten himself into more trouble.”

“You allowed Claude to look around, why?”

Yuri sighs. “We caught wind of someone poking around, and in my infinite paranoia I had the rat dragged in. Just my luck, right?”

“I see,” she grimaces. “I hope that you understand, but I would rather that you stay with me until I can confirm that Claude is indeed alive and well.”

“We’ve only just met, princess, and already you’re getting so affectionate!” he says with a wry grin. 

Edelgard raises an eyebrow. “Then why, pray tell, are you informing me?”

“Believe it or not, the former bishop wants to see you.”

“Was she expecting me?”

“Not necessarily. But she has expressed concern. About some...mage boy that was with her. And about you since there seems to be blame placed upon your head for her supposed death.”

“I see.”

“Either way. Considering your connections down here, I figured you’d learn eventually,” he says with a shrug. “And right now, I just want to get you, and Claude, and all of your friends out of here as soon as possible.”

Edelgard nods. 

Yuri grimaces. “Claude probably won’t be happy when he finds out I lied to him for starters. And he doesn’t seem like someone I want as an enemy.” He says this lightly, but Edelgard can feel the weight. In truth, Edelgard has similar feelings. Claude is less of an ally, and more of a liability. And in some ways, he is potentially a time bomb with how attached Linhardt is to him. She has to tread carefully. She does not want to alienate Claude; she would more than happily welcome him as an ally if he so chose, but trusting him enough to let him in on her goals? Well, that might as well be a non-starter. 

Eventually, Yuri and Edelgard come to a stop in front of a grimy stone door at the end of the corridor. After taking a breath to steel herself, Edelgard enters with Yuri close behind her

The room is some sort of bedroom, perhaps more of an apartment. Luzia is sitting there, her long hair uncoiled and shimmering with an almost deep violet hue in the low torchlight. She turns, and her pensive expression shifts rather extremely once she sees who is here.

“Luzia?” Yuri asks, stepping out in front of Edelgard. “You’ve been talking about Edelgard a lot, and so I thought I’d bring her by,” he glances to Edelgard. “She is unable to stay very long after all.”

“No no, I mean—” she cuts herself off, her eyes darting away and then back in a curiously erratic fashion. “Thank you for bringing Edelgard.”

Yuri looks around the room. “I thought that Constance was keeping you company today?”

“Yes, she was, but she stepped out for a moment,” she says, now looking away.

Yuri presses his lips together. “Alright, princess,” he says. “I can stand guard outside if you’d rather talk to her alone.”

Edelgard shoots him a minuscule glare.

Yuri then throws his hands up in defeat. “Message received, your highness,” he says, backing away to lean up against the far wall. “I will remain here, silent and ever-watchful.”

A brief stretch of silence passes between them before Edelgard pulls up a chair to sit near Luzia’s bed. “Luzia,” she begins. “Regardless of how you must have thought of me. I must say, I am deeply relieved to see that you are alive.”

Luzia takes in a deep breath and attempts to compose herself. “I thank you, Lady Edelgard.”

“Please,” Edelgard replies instinctively. “If anyone need not feel obligated to use my title, it would be you.”

Luzia nods.

“Now, I must ask. Did you truly wish to speak with me?”

“Yes, I suppose I did,” she begins, twisting one hand in the skirt of her gown. Edelgard’s eyes rest heavily upon Luzia. Something about her appears very familiar. Edelgard had initially though that Linhardt’s behaviour the morning after the attack had been somewhat strange. He was so much more anxious and scattered than he had ever seen. Edelgard had attributed it to the trauma of nearly being killed by a demonic beast; and indeed, Edelgard could say the same here. However, something about their mannerisms, the tension that appears to radiate from their forms—It indeed appears similar, of only amplified in Luzia. 

“Luzia,” Edelgard begins. “You need not tell me everything, but I must ask you one thing,” she sighs. “Do you remember what happened to you? On that night of the 23rd at the chapel?”

Luzia’s eyes widen. “Oh no…” her hands then suddenly twist together. “That boy. Linhardt. Is he—?”

“Linhardt is alright,” Edelgard replies.

This does quell Luzia’s initial panic, but she still appears to be overall perturbed. 

“In fact, he accompanied me here today. He is however, preoccupied at the moment.”

Luzia doesn’t respond and looks back down at her hands.

“We came here looking for Claude,”

“Oh!” Her face widens again, and she glances from Edelgard to Yuri suddenly. “He was here…but I don’t remember when exactly.”

“It was one day ago,” Yuri supplies.

“Yes.”

Yuri lets out a sigh. “He got a little roughed up. A lot more roughed up than I wished. We had to bring him here first to heal before he was interrogated.”

Edelgard gives Yuri a seething glare, one of her fists clenching in her lap. She however does not say anything to him and looks back to Luzia. 

“I will ask again. Do you remember what happened to you?”

Luzia’s eyes are cast down. She takes a breath. “Forgive me, Edelgard. I have…I have not been myself,” a bitter grin spreads across her face. “I do remember things, but so many of them do not make any sense.”

“Linhardt told me much of the same things,” she supplies. “But he was able to make sense of things in the days after.”

Luzia gives her an apologetic look. “Unfortunately, I cannot say the same. Since then I have experienced…these…fits. As you saw me just before now. I become erratic, extremely on edge. Unfortunately, I have been forced to remain in this room.”

Edelgard swallows thickly. “Confinement may only serve to aggravate your symptoms.”

Luzia nods. “I understand your worry, but I cannot afford for more people than absolutely necessary to see me.”

Edelgard gives a solemn nod in turn. “I would also like to know then. What of your companion, Anara?”

Something almost approaching a warm smile teases at the corner of Luzia’s lips. “She is alive. That is one thing that I can remember. After the attack, it was she who got me to safety,”

“I see.” Then it would appear that at least one of the figures that Linhardt remembers had indeed been Anara. “Where is she now?”

Yuri clears his throat suddenly. “She is safe I can assure you. But as you can imagine, her anonymity is even more secret.”

Edelgard glances back at him. “Perhaps now is not the time, but I would very much like to know as much as I can about her...particular circumstance.”

“All in due time, princess,” Yuri says, then gesturing back to Luzia. Despite his apparent callous and despondent nature, at the moment, he at least appeared to be primarily concerned for Luzia’s emotional well being.

“Very well,” she turns back to Luzia. “I know that you have suffered greatly due to the legacy of my father. But I hope that you know, I will do everything in my power to help you, should you ask it of me,” she grimaces. “I must ask that you wait just a little longer.”

Luzia nods. “I thank you...” she then glances away. “For now, I am safe. The last true-blooded Hryms are now united after all,” she sighs.

Edelgard’s expression remains placid. “When the time comes, I would like you to be involved in the future of the Hrym region,” she states. “In whatever capacity you deem fit. If you wish to truly separate yourself from your home, that too I will honour.”

Luzia presses her lips together. “I understand, Edelgard. However, at the moment I fear that I cannot give you a solid answer.”

“I understand,” Edelgard then pushes herself up from her seat. “I will not impose upon you any longer, and I will leave you to your rest and recovery,” she says, glancing to Yuri who pushes himself off from the wall and walks back towards her. 

Just as they are about to leave however, they hear approaching footsteps from down the hall as the door suddenly opens.

“Oh Lady Luzia!” A loud sing-song voice then enters the room along with a rather enthusiastic blonde woman. “Terribly sorry for taking so long, I have returned!!” The young woman’s smile, however, freezes when she sees Edelgard, and then Yuri.

“Oh goodness! It would appear you have some visitors here already!” She exclaims, walking in and closing the door behind her.

“Constance,” Yuri says with a small smirk. “Excellent timing. We were just on our way—”

“Oh dear, is this the current black eagles house leader?” Constance asks, walking forward to Luzia’s bedside.

“Yes, it is I. Edelgard von Hresvelg.”

“I see...” Constance’s face somehow goes even more sheet-white. “How terrible of me not to introduce myself, it is I, Constance von Nouvelle!”

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Edelgard presses her lips together. Yet another survivor of a ruined noble house. Certainly, Luzia and Constance could find some kinship, and for that Edelgard could be grateful, however. “I am pleased to find that you are alive and healthy after such a tragedy has befallen your house.”

Edelgard is genuine, but Constance does not appear entirely certain about how best to reply. For the moment, she lets out a high-pitched laugh that very nearly startles Edelgard with it’s intensity.

“Indeed! From the ashes of house Nouvelle comes a fearless maiden, on the path to restoring my family’s name!”

Edelgard remains patiently listening while Yuri lets out an audible groan from behind them. Before Constance can continue, he walks up to Edelgard’s side.

“Terribly sorry to interrupt, Coco,” he begins, catching both of their attention. “But the imperial princess really needs to be heading out. No time for idle chitchat.”

“Idle!?” Constance replied with an offended huff. “As it happens, I have many things of great import to discuss with the imperial Princess!”

Edelgard glances to Yuri briefly before looking back at Constance. “Forgive me, but he is correct. I am on very pressing business. Although, I was simply unaware that you were residing here. Please, when passage to the surface becomes easier again, I encourage you to seek an audience with me at your convince.”

Constance’s eyes go wide again but she quickly banishes her shock with another laugh. “What is this? A personal invitation from the imperial princess herself? How magnanimous! Of course, I cannot possibly refuse! You can count upon my arrival in your presence, post-haste!”

Yuri lets out another scoff and gently urges Edelgard towards the door. “Great, fantastic. Wonderful to know that you two ladies have a date planned but,” he opens the door and gestures for Edelgard to accompany him again.

Edelgard nods and with one last apologetic glance at Constance follows Yuri back into the torchlit corridor.

* * *

Yuri and Edelgard walking away suddenly leaves the other two surface dwellers to their own devices. Their first course of action is to double back to fork in the road where they had first entered Abyss. Straight ahead from that iron gate was a rather central-looking path that seemed like a fairly good bet to follow. 

They walk together still mostly in silence under the arches that supported this structure within the rock around them. The torches flicker as they pass several doors. Some even being ajar.

“Okay,” Hilda begins. “I hate to say it, but do you think we should split up?” 

Linhardt’s eyes slide towards her. “I suppose, as long as we can still find our way back to some sort of meeting place.”

Their path took them towards a set of stairs at the end of the corridor. Just as they approached, the space widened out to either side revealing an underground canal. They crossed the bridge and began to climb the stairs. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Hilda replies. “This place is pretty new to us after all,” she shrugs. “Well, that Yuri guy seemed to know about the officer uniforms, so Claude shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

“If he is even really here.”

This leads them to what appeared to be some sort of market place. A few dilapidated stands, some merchants, and even a small group of children nearby. They both look around for a few moments, taking in the sights. 

Hilda presses her lips together. “Okay, I’ll head—this way,” she gestures. “There’s gotta be someone here who saw him,”

Linhardt nods. “We should meet back here as soon as possible.”

“Alright,” she glances at Linhardt. He didn’t seem too upset on the surface, but Hilda was starting to suspect otherwise. But what did she know? They were barely more than acquaintances, and surely Linhardt wouldn’t want to be close to someone pining for his own boyfriend? That would make things awkward. Although, Hilda’s assumption that Linhardt would even notice Hilda’s crush on Claude was more than a little generous.

Hilda makes her way towards another set of stairs beyond which she glimpses someone wearing one of those white student uniforms. Someone closer to her age would be her best bet she figures.

Linhardt, while also assuming similarly, is instead rather discouraged by this prospect. As soon as Hilda leaves, he realizes suddenly that in order to find Claude he will have to...actually talk to people. How dreadful. For Linhardt who had only barely escaped a demonic beast attack with his life, this was indeed still the most daunting challenge.

Linhardt stands there in the marketplace, looking around. There are apparent students and older more weathered Abyss residents. Even people who appeared to be from outside of Fodlan, a far larger percentage than Linhardt had ever seen. 

He notices a few in particular; their complexion nearly identical to that of Anara or Cyril. There was a man with a thick braid by his chin, and others with various familiar flourishes. A colourful sash here, some silk cording there. And he saw even, one woman who tended the weapons stand. Her hair was thick and curly, with the same complexion as Anara(but a bit sallow from the lack of the sun) she wore a woven shawl with bright tassels, but no braid, that he could see.

Linhardt however does not approach any of them. Perhaps he should, they would certainly notice one more of their own? But Linhardt has enough difficulties with strangers as it is. He avoids talking to anyone until he is in a less crowded area, one near a long underground corridor. Here, is where Linhardt spots something truly intriguing. 

A young woman with bright red hair, dark skin and one of those white school uniforms. She is alone, which makes her much less daunting to approach, and also more curious. Every other student he had seen had been talking to at least their peers if not some of the other Abyss residents. This one however...And form the outset, she did not appear to be some sort of bookish loner. There had to be some other sort of circumstance for her isolation.

“Excuse me?” Linhardt calls, the girl starts slightly and looks at him with a faint look at surprise. She looks around, perhaps seeing if he meant someone else, but she eventually meets Linhardt’s unwavering gaze, her eyelids drooping back into a disaffected expression.

“Huh? You talking to me?”

“Yes. I was wondering if you might answer a few questions of mine,” Linhardt says, Flayn’s advice about how to approach others bubbling to the surface of his memory.

The girl shrugs. “Sure I guess,” her eyes drift down his uniform and then back up to his face. “You’re from up top, why’re you down here?”

Linhardt presses his lips together, having to resist pursuing all the things he wanted to know about this apparent secret fourth class and their leader. “I am looking for someone who came here ahead of us. He would have been about my height, wearing a house leader uniform with a yellow cape,”

The girl leans her head back and ponders. “Yeah, actually. I think I saw a guy like that earlier—no I definitely did,” she says. “Yeah. He was asking around, too. It seemed like he was looking for someone but he was super vague about it.”

“Might you tell me what you told him?”

“I told him that if he wants information, the Shadow Library is the best bet,” she replies with a shrug. 

“A library?” Linhardt’s face lights up. “Could you perchance show me where that is located?”

“Sure,” she replies, pushing herself up from her sitting position. She doesn’t seem to care much about personal space and leans right up next to him as she staggers to her feet. Seeing how unsteady she is, Linhardt reaches out a hand and catches her arm mid-air.

The same bewildered expression blooms on her face, but more extreme this time. She stares at his pale digits wrapped around her forearm but does not immediately pull away. Her eyes then slide up to his face. “I take it you don’t know anything about our class, or about me, that’s fine,” she shrugs. “But I have to tell you, most people think it’s best not to get to close to me,” she tugs her arm out of his grip and turns to lead him away.

“Wait—” he begins, walking after her. “Indeed, I know nothing about you. I wonder why you assume such things and so—”

“Hapi,” she replies, keeping up her brisk pace ahead of him. “My name’s Hapi.”

“Well, my name is Linhardt,” he replies.

“Hmph,” she doesn’t look back at him, but if Linhardt had known her at all, he would be able to tell that her pace is a little more brisk and energetic than usual. 

It doesn’t take long before they arrive at the entrance to the Library. Hapi however doesn’t fully approach, she hangs back. He then glances inside, and he can just barely glimpse Claude, his head poking out from behind a pillar amidst a stack of books.

Linhardt resists his joyful impulse for the moment and looks back at Hapi. Her body language is closed off, and yet she is lingering nearby. “He is in fact here, so there is no need for you to help me any longer.”

Hapi shrugs and then turns away a little more.

“Thank you, Hapi.”

“You’re welcome,” she mutters, pushing herself off the wall where she stood. 

Perhaps at any other time Linhardt would be able to indulge in his curiosity, go towards that niggling tug of interest, but not now. 

Linhardt then tears his eyes away and strides into the library. “Claude,” he calls, causing the distant figure to start.

“Linhardt?!” Claude asks, about to scramble to his feet when Linhardt instead all but sprints towards him. Claude doesn’t get another moment to ask questions as Linhardt lunges forward, joining Claude on the floor and clumsily wrapping their arms around him.

Claude lets out a laugh and lightly pats Linhardt’s back before gently pushing him back. “Hey,” Claude puts a hand on Linhardt’s cheek. “I’m alive, I’m okay.”

The distress on Linhardt’s face was clear to Claude, and so is the relief and comfort that blooms at his touch. But Linhardt is too aware of their exposed and dangerous position. He pulls back, Claude’s hand falls away and they keep each others’ gaze.

“So should I go first? Or should you?” Claude asks.

Linhardt glances away and rests back on his haunches. “All I care about is that you’re alive and that Yuri fellow was telling the truth after all.”

“Okay then, my turn,” Claude continues. “You’re not here alone, are you?”

“Oh heavens no. Edelgard and Hilda are here too.”

“I’m sure a popular guy, huh?”

Linhardt ignores this. “Hilda came looking for me, asking if I knew where you were,” he says, his eyes clouding slightly. “And so we sought help from Edelgard.”

“And she knew where to look, huh?”

“Yes, apparently she has been somewhat aware of this place for a while now.”

“Darn, maybe I should have asked the imperial princess for help instead, huh?” He laughs nervously, scratching the back of his head with a wince.

Linhardt’s ever-observant eyes of course do not miss this. One of his hands reach out and find their way to the back of his head. Linhardt’s neutral expression creases into a frown when he feels a nasty bump and a mat of dried blood in Claude’s hair. 

“I told you, I’m fine,” Claude’s voice is low. “I just got a little roughed up is all.”

“By who?”

“What’s this? Are you going to crusade for my revenge? How out of character.”

Linhardt rolls his eyes. “Was it Yuri?”

“Nah. It was his “people.” Yuri did tie me to a chair though,” Claude says while moving one hand to idly rub at the rope marks on his wrist.

“Is that so...” Linhardt says, his eyes then moving to Claude’s wrists.

“Where are my other two valiant rescuers?”

Linhardt shrugs. “Edelgard went to go speak privately with Yuri about something. Hilda went in the opposite direction to try and look for you.”

“Ah,” Claude’s face falls minutely. “I guess you got lucky then, huh?”

Linhardt remains silent for a moment. “Claude, I didn’t even know you were missing.”

“Ah, yeah,” Claude gives a sheepish grin. “Sorry about that.”

“Hilda came to me because she assumed that I would be told of wherever you went,” Linhardt shrugs. He doesn’t appear to be upset about it, at least not that Claude can read. 

“Hey,” Claude says softly again, this catching Linhardt’s attention again. “You know why I’m down here, right?”

“I assume to find something to exonerate Anara,” Linhardt replies.

“Yeah, and to figure out who was after Luzia and why,” Claude says, swallowing as he hoped it could be implicit. That Claude was also here to find out what had almost taken Linhardt from him. Who had torn up Linhardt’s body, and who had burdened him with such trauma that it made his hands tremble at the thought. Claude kept silent, not out of embarrassment, but because he still wished that he didn’t feel this strongly about Linhardt, even as it could no longer be denied. “I wasn’t intending to disappear without a trace, that’s for sure.”

Linhardt’s eyes glance down, finding their way to the books circled around Claude. “Your search brought you to leaf through the Library?”

“Ah,” Claude straightens and leans over to grab a couple of books. “Not exactly,” he shrugs. “I asked around, picked up a few rumours but no solid leads. But I figured while I’m here, I should take a peek,” Claude says, then holding up a pair of tomes, while worse for wear, were at least completely legible. Linhardt’s eyes then widen as he takes in the titles. 

“These are—”

“That’s right, ‘_The Ten Elites’_ volumes one and twoby your favourite historian: Irmgard of Adrestia.”

“Which edition?” Linhardt asks, his hands darting out to which Claude released his grip and let Linhardt take the first volume. 

“3rd edition, but completely un-redacted,” Claude says. 

“Claude, this is—”

“Pretty fantastic find, huh?”

What Linhardt wanted to say was that this was the very book that had brought them together originally. The first volume alone, and a later edition. But the very same thread in Linhardt’s search for answers. The thread that when pulled upon had lead him to Claude, and had caused far more than he had ever expected to unravel. 

Linhardt leans in. “You’ve been here much longer than I have, why don’t you tell me a bit of what you’ve learned?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Claude says with a grandiose flourish of his hand. “I tried asking around; and I found out about two people that match Luzia and Anara’s description, but that was a bit of a dead-end,” he says, the bitter disappointment clear on his face. “But, you know now, right? There’s a whole secret fourth class down here!”

“Yes I do,” Linhardt nods. “We met that so-called class leader Yuri when we first arrived here, and I think one of the Ashen Wolf students must of guided me here,” Linhardt says, glancing down, a curious expression floating onto his face. One that both intrigued Claude, and also sowed just the tiniest seed of sorrow.

“Oh? Did you catch this student’s name?”

Linhardt tilts his head to the side, his lips pressing together slightly. “Hapi, I believe?”

“Ooh...” Claude’s lips turn into a smirk and Linhardt frowns at him. “I heard about her. Rumour has it that she’s some sort of ‘monster girl’,” Claude shrugs. “Dunno how much truth there is to that, but it seems like most people down here go out of their way to avoid her.”

Linhardt’s face creases slightly. It reminds him more than a little bit of how Marianne was regarded. The memory of when he had once approached her about her crest now flashing in his mind. 

Linhardt shrugs. “She helped me when I asked, so frankly I don’t care much about those rumours,” he says even as his brows are still creased in contemplation. “Although I must admit, I am curious.”

Claude smirks. “Well too bad, according to Lord Yuri, we have to get out of here as soon as we can. No time to fraternize with the locals.”

Linhardt gives Claude a slightly perplexed look. It was unclear to Linhardt why Claude would be so interested in Linhardt’s potential relationship with some girl he just met, and so Linhardt elects to move past it. “I assume you’ve found more than just a slightly more detailed version of books we have already read?”

Claude’s grin now truly lights up his face. “Believe me, Linhardt, we are just getting started here,” he says taking hold of one of Linhardt’s hands and lifting it as if inviting Linhardt to join him on a lively dance floor. “Will you not join me once again? Dive with me into the church’s secrets wherever this might lead?”

Linhardt wraps his fingers tightly around Claude’s hand, using that grip to dart forward and capture Claude’s lips into a brief kiss. With that, the callbacks to their first meeting were now complete and Linhardt’s lips curl into his small sweet smile. “I would be glad to.”


	13. Familiar Doubts Part IV

Hilda was in truth, more than a little reluctant to split up, but hopefully it would still prove to be fruitful. After watching Linhardt stagger his way through the crowd, Hilda turns a corner, through towers of crates and market stands, into more secluded corners. She takes a longer look at the people around her. There were some people in those weird white uniforms, but not as many as near the classrooms. And if she looked closely, the seemed quite a bit older on average than the students she was familiar with.

But they were all unfamiliar, strangers; students who attended the academy long before sheras ever arrived. At least she assumed as such, until her eyes fell upon one particular towering figure.

He stuck out for plenty of reasons, one being that he was at least six feet, and the other being that he kept his school jacket open, ostensibly to show off his hard-earned muscles. Hilda cranes her neck, and that face, even if now aged by at least 7 years, is unmistakable.

“Baltie?!” She exclaims, her voice carrying through the cavernous space and causing the formidable brawler to start.

His shoulders tense and he gives her a very brief wide-eyed look before his face shifts into an expression that is not quite as familiar.

“Hey, if it isn’t Hilda!” He replies even as she marches right up to him, already looking displeased. “Are you academy age already? Man, how time flies,” he laughs, rather nervously, one hand scratching at the back of his head.

The Balthus that Hilda remembers had already been pretty thick-headed and oblivious, but right now, he seems pretty aware of what was about to befall him. “Don’t give me that! You left without so much as a word, we all thought you were dead!”

Perhaps he was genuinely regretful, but a somewhat dismissive grin lingers on his face instead. “Ah, yeah, my bad. Must have just slipped my mind,” he shrugs.

Hilda gawks at him. “It just ‘slipped your mind’? Holst was devastated! The least you could have done was let us know you were alive!” She huffs. “And here you are! Just idling your time away in some sewer like nothing’s the matter!”

“Hey,” Balthus replies, his face growing somewhat serious. “I’ll have you know I’ve been keeping myself pretty busy down here.”

“Oh yeah?” She raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. “You did seem completely swamped with work with how you were just staring into space until I showed up.”

“Hey—Harsh. I’m just on my break! Abyss has plenty of use for a guy like me! I get to keep my training up by keeping this place protected.”

“So...you’re a security guard?” She asks, tilting her head to the side.

“Yeah! I help out with the guard rotations, and staying down here I can avoid the headhunters who—” he cuts himself off and coughs into a gloved hand.

“Wait HEADHUNTERS!?” Hilda exclaims. “What in the goddess’ name have you been getting up to?!”

He lifts both hands and steps back a bit in the face of her anger. “Hey, no need to get so riled up there. I just racked up a bit of gambling debt is all!”

“Really?” She crosses her arms and leans her body weight onto one leg. “If that was really it, me or Holst could have helped you!” She shrugs. “Gathering the money to settle some debts is nothing, specially if it’s for you, Baltie,” she says, leaning into those last few words. “I swear he wouldn’t stop crying for a week after you left. It’s a miracle he ever recovered!”

That appeared to at least have some effect, Balthus’ jaw tightens and he pauses before replying. “Look, it’s not just a couple of random loan sharks. I can’t go back to Leicester at all. Because just my luck, Count Gloucester of all people seems to want my head the most.”

Hilda scoffs. “Uhg, Seriously?!” Lorenz was insufferable enough without his father needing to get involved in things. “What did you do to get him that mad at you?”

“I had to take up mercenary work after I left my old man’s place, and Count Gloucester was hiring. I just accumulated too many bar tabs on count’s coin, and he just had enough of me. Or I might have tried to run off without repaying him. Can’t quite remember.”

“Uhg...” she then shakes her head. “Wait a second. Mercenary work? None of that explains why you just up and abandoned your title with no explanation!”

“Come on Hilda. Can you imagine someone like me as a Baron? I’d be terrible at it!” He sighs, resting one fist on his hip. “Besides, the only one in my whole House that wanted me to inherit was my old man.“

Hilda presses her lips together. She vaguely remembers something about Balthus’ mother not being nobility, which caused quite a bit of a fuss. Although if Hilda were to examine it more closely in retrospect, she would find that the fervor was a bit more intense than it would have been, if it truly had only been about social standing.

“Well, clearly your dad thought you should be the heir after all,” she shrugs. Holst and Balthus’ class at the officer’s academy had won a lot of renown, having won at the battle of the eagle and lion for one thing. “Like, he thought you were worthy, and wanted you to take his place some day.”

Balthus shakes his head. “Nah, that was just because my entrance examination wound up showing that I had a crest—” he says, his mouth promptly snapping shut although it was already too late.

Hilda simply stares back at him, completely dumbfounded for a few agonizingly long moments. It’s a bit too much to fully process, the implications, that Balthus had hidden it, that the Church had hidden it? This was now becoming a bit too relevant to her current pursuits for her liking.

Hilda then huffs and lunges forward, shoving Balthus hard enough with both hands that he actually lost balance. “I don’t care what the reasons for you leaving were, you didn’t have to just run off like that!” She cries, some sort of heavy emotion creeping into her voice and causing her throat to tighten. “Like—As if—Holst and I didn’t even mean anything to you!”

Balthus stares back down at her, still speechless. Hilda’s head is cast down, her hands balling into fists against Balthus’ abdomen as the frustration, the genuine fear and grief she had been burying for the past 7 years starts to boil over through the shaking of her shoulders.

Balthus swallows, tentatively lifting a hand as if wanting to touch her shoulder in comfort, but he hesitates and lets his hand fall back to his sides again. “You’re right, Hilda. It was totally awful of me to just abandon you like that. Holst has complete and total permission to kick my ass the next time I see him.”

Hilda slams both her fists into his stomach, glaring back up at him. “As if I won’t kick your ass first!” She yells, pushing off of him and causing Balthus to stumble back another half pace.

Balthus manages to collect himself and look back down at her. “I swear, I just didn’t want you guys to get caught up in my mess, and goddess forbid get hurt because of me. I couldn’t tell anyone about my crest, so it was better to just disappear.”

Hilda looks back up at him, her lips pressing into a frown again. "Better to disappear?! Says you. You think it was fun, thinking you were gone all that time? Way to trust your best friends."

Balthus doesn’t have an immediate reply, he just presses his lips together and lets out a sharp sigh. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Hilda then nudges him again with one hand. “Hey, what I’m saying is we missed you, dumbass,” she says, her tone softening just a little.

It was still infuriating, that Hilda couldn’t even seem to get a straight answer. The insistent dodging and weaving around some sort of elusive truth, while not the Balthus that she remembered, was somehow naggingly familiar to her now.

Oh, of course, Claude. She’s here to find Claude! Now is definitely not the time to be catching up with a long lost childhood friend.

Hilda then lets out a sudden groan that causes Balthus to jerk out of his stupor, watching as she stomps a foot and crosses her arms. "Goddess, what am I doing?! I was busy trying to find someone until YOU distracted me!.”

Balthus is eager to cling onto the topic change. And maybe, just maybe he can still be of some sort of help to her. “Hey,” he says softly. “I have been down here for a while now, so I can try and help you out.”

She looks back up at him. For a moment, it’s almost like he really is the Baltie she remembers. And likewise, Hilda then has to go back to being the ‘Hilda’ that he has always known. “Aww Baltie, you’d do that, for me?” She says, her voice suddenly taking on that saccharin-sweet tone of hers.

Balthus blinks. “Yeah, I mean. Obviously?”

Hilda then darts forward, looping one arm around his and standing next to him as to no longer have to look him in the eye. “Fantastic! You see, this friend of mine. It's Claude—you know, the heir to House Riegan? He's probably getting himself in trouble as we speak,”

“Well then,” Balthus grins. “I’d better get to work then. Wouldn’t want you to have to keep worrying yourself over this guy now would I?” He says, still grinning rather confidently. “Okay, how about we just hit the tavern first? There’s gotta be some off-duty guards there that would have seen him.”

“Oh, of course Baltie, you’re a genius!!” She says while leaning her weight into him to hopefully spur Balthus into actually moving.

“Alright, alright, we will be off then,” he says, taking Hilda back around the corner and back to the market area. They dodge through the crowds, unavoidably drawing more than a few looks; some curious, others suspicious. But they climb the stairs and enter the tavern, just as two figures dash out of the library behind them.

* * *

“Claude!” Linhardt calls, already struggling to keep up the pace as Claude sprints forward without hesitation. “I swear if I lose sight of you—”

Claude then stops and slows down, just enough to let Linhardt catch up, Claude jogging in place for a few moments before starting to run off again. “It’s fine Lin, you saw the map, you’re the one who could read it better than me. You know where I’m headed,” Claude says, heading further down the abandoned corridor, this section of abyss being notably less occupied than the other areas they had so far explored.

“Claude you are still injured,” Linhardt says while still trailing after him.

“I can rest after Yuri kicks me out of here.”

Linhardt scoffs again but doesn’t complain further, keeping up the best pace he can with Claude still in his line of site.

After rounding another corner, however, Claude does slow to something much closer to a walk before staggering briefly to lean heavily on a wall.

“Okay, just a little dizzy, I swear I’m fine.”

Linhardt walks up and stands just slightly off to Claude’s left and frowns. “Are you in any pain?” Linhardt says, reaching out his hand but hesitating.

Claude eventually pushes out a heavy breath and forces himself up to give Linhardt a grin. “I mean, to be honest, a little bit yeah,” he admits, turning his face towards Linhardt.

Linhardt walks into Claude’s line of sight and lifts a hand to cast a healing spell. “This should help for the moment, but it’s only temporary.”

“Yeah, I know,” he moves away from the wall and starts walking again, a little steadier this time. “Save your lectures for after we’ve checked out this door, okay?”

“I was intending to,” Linhardt grumbles while jogging after him again.

“Great, because I need your brilliant mind to be fully focused on the task at hand,” he says, shooting Linhardt a quick wink.

Linhardt keeps looking at Claude for just a moment longer before facing straight ahead again, just as their apparent destination comes into view.

* * *

The tavern itself is rather lively and crowded, full of all sorts, dressed in various garb, some that didn’t even seem of Fódlan at all. They were clearly relaxing, as much as they could in such contentious times. And one figure in particular once again catches Hilda’s eye, despite the apparent unfamiliarity of everything about this place. But despite her enthusiasm and the rather light atmosphere, Hilda clings quite closely to Balthus, not unlike she used to when they were kids.

“While I’m flattered you still trust me, Hilda, there’s no reason to fear these guys,” he says waving a hand to one of the passing guards.

She relaxes a little and lets one of her arms fall back to her side. “It does seem way more civilised than Holst made it out to be.”

Balthus laughs. “Yeah, well things have really improved since then.” Balthus then leads them over to the bar, about to offer her a seat when the woman at the bar catches his eye. She had begun to stir, her thick dark brown hair mostly obscuring her face as she starts to get up to leave rather suddenly. “Hey, you’re the new girl, Aniela, right?”

The woman stiffens, and Hilda peers over, seeing her just as she starts and stares at Balthus in surprise.

“Yeah, Balthus right? What’s up.”

It was Anara. And it was in fact the same uniform that Hilda had seen earlier. The same off-issue embellishments, all that was missing now was her helmet, which sat there on the bar counter. Hilda can hardly believe it, but here it is. Not that Hilda couldn’t have found a way to get such important information herself, but she wasn’t about to complain about less work! She has to keep calm, move carefully, buy enough time to get back to Edelgard or find Claude.

“My friend here is looking for someone,” he says, patting Hilda on the shoulder as she walks into view. “I figured someone on your team could help, I’ve been off duty most of today you see.”

Anara gives Balthus an even look before finally turning to greet Hilda. “Yeah, I just got off duty, so I have a moment.”

Hilda then smiles sweetly. “_Aniela_! It’s so crazy to see you again! Especially in a place like this,” she then returns to the most luminous smile that she has. Hilda’s mind races even as Anara seems to be ready to help her. Did Claude know she was here? Is that why he knew to come in the first place? If she’s not careful, her thoughts will spin out into those dark conclusions. But, Claude does trust her, he believes her. But Hilda just needs to be sure.

“Yeah,” Anara replies. “Sorry I didn’t say anything earlier. I just had to do my job, y’know?”

“Oh don’t worry yourself over that! You’re the new girl after all, so you have to impress, right? I know that I’m impressed for one.”

Anara gives an amused smirk as she pushes herself up from the bar, grabbing her discarded helmet.

“Great,” Balthus then pats Hilda again and turns towards the bar. “I knew I’d find someone who could help, and you even know each other!”

Hilda’s lips turn briefly into a pout, deeply irritated by Balthus’ sudden new desire to avoid responsibility. He seems almost too eager to hand her off, frankly. But it was fine, he ended up being more helpful than he had ever meant to be.

"See you later, Baltie! Don't be a stranger." Her tone is friendly, but the brief look she gives him says it's not a request, but a demand.

Balthus gives her a two-finger salute of acknowledgment before turning toward the mug of ale being slung his way.

Hilda lets out a scoff and turns back to Anara. Hilda watches as she tucks her braid behind her ear and puts the helmet back on.

“Now, Yuri made it clear that you’re our guest down here. So it’s part of my job to make sure you don’t get lost,” she says, jerking her head towards the tavern entrance to get Hilda to follow.

“Yes of course! And you did _such_ a good job getting us here in the first place, so I know I can trust you!”

Anara nods, turning sharply once she leaves the tavern, walking past the open entrance to the library. Hilda catches it out of the corner of her eye and skips over to peer inside. The room is open enough that she can see the whole area. No sign of Claude.

While she searches, Anara has caught the attention of another messenger. Hilda can just hear the two of them discuss something before the other woman runs off. Anara then looks around and sees where Hilda has stopped.

“Something catch your eye?” Anara asks.

Hilda shakes her head and skips forward to match pace with Anara. "Thank you so much for helping me out, you're a real lifesaver! The friend I’m looking for, his name is Claude—he’s a bit of a bookworm, so I was checking,” Hilda shrugs. “Oh, but you've already met Claude, haven't you?"

Anara gives Hilda a brief look before facing back ahead. “Yeah, I saw him when he was taken in yesterday, but haven’t since,” some sort of brief flicker of another emotion flashes across her face before being pushed away

Hilda frowns. “’Taken in,’ wow. That sounds pretty drastic, like he was _arrested_ or something.” Hilda’s smile never wavers. “I didn’t realise that paying a visit to such a _civilised_ little town was considered a crime.”

“So why did this friend of yours think poking around here was a good idea?”

“He was investigating something. He’s just like that, you know. Can never leave a question unanswered,” she says while idly twirling a finger in one of her pigtails.

“Any idea what?”

“Oh, you know, just that big kerfuffle that happened a couple weeks back.”

Anara frowns “You mean...the assassination of the eastern bishop?”

“Oh so you heard about it? Glad to know that we are on the same page.”

Anara continues to frown in response.

“Anyway, I heard Claude even visited the culprit in her cell. Pretty brave if you ask me.”

Anara stiffens and she comes to an abrupt stop in the middle of the corridor. “I think you mean, ‘alleged culprit’.” She snarls.

“Oh yeah, you’re right, sorry!” She says, lifting her hands in a dismissive gesture. “Claude believed you were innocent didn’t he”

Anara turns on her, clearly not caring as much as hiding her hostility. “Yeah, he visited me. But it’s not like I was even a threat to him.”

Hilda lets herself feel a little satisfied, trying to keep her smile from turning into anything but sickeningly sweet. “Right, right,” she says, leaning casually against a wall. “But I am wondering, why he seemed so eager too visit you in the first place?”

Anara shrugs. “I couldn’t tell you,” Anara replies. “I never asked him to come after me, if that’s what you mean. If I had known, I would have tried to stop him.”

“But he did still wander into this oh-so-civilised place, looking for you.”

“How about you just get to what you’re so clearly after?”

Hilda then looks up again, setting one hand firmly on her hip. “When you were sparring with him the other day, what did you say to him?”

Anara then gives Hilda a slightly puzzled look. “What did I...say to him?” She then pauses momentarily to think back. “Not much? I complimented him on his swordplay, and he asked me a few questions about myself, that’s about it.”

Hilda’s lips pull into something of a snarl and she crosses both arms over her chest. “Listen, sister. I have known Claude for a while now and I have _never_ seen him that FREAKED out before!” She grimaces. “You _must_ have said something. Or did something! Regardless, I’m not going to let you hurt him okay—wait, is it blackmail? You must have something on him!” All the while the words start to spill out faster and faster until she is nearly shouting again and she has to clamp a hand over her lips.

Anara, however, does not react in anger to this display, as she thinks that she might relate to the sentiment that has spurred it. That sudden desperation, that made less panic, Anara knows these things well. “I don’t really see why I’d want to threaten him after having just met him. Sure, right now I could use the son of an Archduke to throw his weight around but,” she shrugs. “Clearly I managed to stay alive without extorting a _kid_.”

“Yeah? Then how do you explain it? Clearly you did something, he wouldn’t so much as _talk_ about you with me since then!”

“Listen,” Anara continues, her voice softening. “I _promise_ I didn’t threaten him. We just talked. It turned out that we had the same combat instructor growing up.”

“Oh,” Hilda replies, her sudden anger and panic dissipating considerably. “I guess that must be why you two seem to spar so flawlessly together.” Like old friends...Like how Balthus and Holst used to trade blows. Knowing exactly what to expect without having to hold back. “Not that I would really know anything about that sort of thing!” She says while waving a hand and forcing out a laugh.

“Clearly,” Anara says while looking throughly unconvinced. “It was nice though, sparring with him, I could almost pretend I was back home again.”

“Wait,” the full implications of what Anara has said start to sink in. The casual way she had stated it had almost caused it to just sail right by her. “Growing up? That can’t be right. Aren’t you—?” The words get stuck in her throat as the path of her conclusions crash up against the utterly impossible. This didn’t make sense. Claude has the Riegan crest, he was the legitimate heir, right? Yeah he mentioned coming from some distant branch family but...?

Anara stands there and watches as the conclusion slowly blooms across her face. Something like shock, disbelief, and perhaps a bit of shame.

Hilda looks down at her hands, clasping them together over her waist. “You grew up in Almyra...didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I did,” she says. “I was trained to join the army, just like my parents before me.”

She looks up at Anara again. For a moment, her thoughts spin, flashing back to her conversations with Cyril; to the few times Claude had shared hints about his past, and the countless times he had avoided the topic entirely. Of course. Given who her father and brother were— who her family was—Hilda would absolutely be the last person Claude would ever want to tell.

“So,” she begins, swallowing thickly to keep the tears at bay. “I guess...if you had the same teacher, Claude was going to be in the army too?”

Anara observes her face for a moment before replying. “Not necessarily. All Almyrans are expected to know how to fight,” she says, relaxing her posture so that she towers just a little over the girl. “It’s a part of everything we do. Hell, even our courtship rituals involve challenging your prospective lover to a duel!” She gives a hearty laugh that carries down the corridor behind them.

“Huh, somehow that isn’t that surprising,” Hilda replies, but without disdain this time. The way that Anara says it, with pride and warm nostalgia, it makes Hilda start to feel a little curious. Even if it’s still hard to see Claude as some sort of ‘fierce Almyran barbarian’...really, that whole way of thinking was mistaken. Anara after all, she’s...nice. There’s no anger at the questions, no hostility, even when Hilda had been more than ready to sling such things at her.

Anara raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, no self-respecting Almyran would marry someone who couldn’t beat them in a fair fight.”

“Wow, so you really just...beat the crap out of the person you want to date?”

“Only if they agree, of course,” she lifts one hand as she continues to explain. “It doesn’t just have to be raw strength, it can also be ingenuity or magical skill. Someone who is an archer, for example, would have to be a bit more creative.”

Hilda’s cheeks suddenly flush an obvious shade of pink. “Oh, haha—Yeah! Claude’s an archer huh. That mean’s he’d be no match for someone with an axe. Like, me for example. Not that I’d want to court him or anything—just an example you know! Just babbling. Although he does know how to use an axe, he’d still never win against, I could lift him with one arm if I wanted to—” she then finally cuts herself off, covering her mouth with both hands as she lets out a long internal scream.

Anara raises an eyebrow and gives Hilda a knowing smile. “Oh of course, purely hypothetical.”

“Anyway,” Hilda huffs, lowering her hands and straightening her skirts. “Speaking of Claude, we still need to find him!”

“That we do,” Anara replies, turning her head to look back down the corridor. “I have an idea where to check, so just follow me, yeah?”

Hilda nods. “Yeah...” she then follows after Anara once the older woman starts walking again. “Hey uh...” Hilda begins slowly after a few moments of silence. “Do you think that maybe...later. After we find Claude and all...”

“Hm?”

“Would it be okay if I maybe asked you some questions? About what it’s like in Almyra?”

Anara smiles. “Yeah, of course. I’d be more than happy to.”

Hilda smiles in return. The whole journey of emotions she had just experienced still needing time to settle, but over all, she feels far more comfortable than she would have anticipated. A different picture of Anara starts to solidify in Hilda’s mind as she thinks back. The way that she had charged ahead into the Chapel after Luzia—how she had lead them against the Black Beasts, making sure that all the students were safe, never once leaving any of them to fend for themselves.

What had Hilda thought of her back then? Had Hilda just dismissed it? Just ignored that loyalty and that protectiveness? But at least now, Hilda sees it. From how Anara watched over their practices, to how she watched Luzia’s back in the monastery, and even to when Hilda had first seen her. Claude, his face wide in panic, his fighting stance scattered; and Anara, her blade immediately lowered as she lurched forward with and unarmed hand to make sure that he was alright.

As they round a corridor, they suddenly hear the distant murmuring of voices. Hilda looks to Anara, but she doesn’t seem worried and so Hilda keeps moving. However, once the voice becomes distinguishable, Hilda stops dead in her tracks.

_“What are you waiting for? Give it a spin, Linhardt!”_

_“Claude, do you honestly think that I, of all people can even move this mechanism?”_

_“Come now, Linhardt. Are you going to make an injured man to all the work?”_

_“I am just going to examine these runes.”_

_“Alright then, I’ll keep looking at this lock and see if I notice anything.”_

Anara had stopped as well, and she turns to give Hilda a long look. “Hey,” she says, causing Hilda’s wide eyes to snap up to Anara once again.

Hilda’s hands are clasped again, and her face shows, fear, trepidation.

Anara reaches out an places a gloved hand on her shoulder. “Nothing’s changed, right?”

Hilda takes a moment to respond, but manages to shake her head. “No! Of course not. I just—”

“You don’t have to tell him that you know, not right away,” Anara continues. “Just go to him, see that he’s alright. He will want to see you again I’m sure.”

Hilda isn’t so sure about that, but she did agree to meet up with Linhardt again, so at the very least she needed to make good on that promise. “Okay,” Hilda then sprints out ahead of Anara. Following the sound of that voice, of the clanking of metal, and the approaching of even more footsteps.


	14. Uncertain Loyalty Part I

Edelgard and Yuri leave the small underground infirmary and retread their path from before. They remain silent for a few long moments. Perhaps because even brief exposure to Constance was far more emotionally draining than anyone could anticipate; or more likely—

For Edelgard at least, her heart was heavy with thoughts of Luzia. Of how, after confirming with her...contacts. Edelgard’s suspicions had been true. Hubert had intercepted Agarthan coded correspondences from around the events. And as she understands it, the radical church faction that wanted Luzia dead, had once again been infiltrated by...them.

It was yet unclear if like before, it had in fact been an Agarthan operation, under the pretense of a western church move; or if the dissidents had merely been supplied experimental crest stones. No matter which was the case, this knowledge threatens to burn a hole in the pit of her stomach.

At that moment, however, Yuri lets out a short sigh next to her, perhaps noticing her dour state, and choosing to try and move their discussions forward. 

“You’re looking a little under the weather there princess. If I end up having to carry you, you will owe me.”

Edelgard shakes her head. “There will be no need, I am quite alright.”

Yuri’s lips press together briefly in dissatisfaction. “I guess the stuff you’ve learned is troubling enough to make you look like you’re about to hurl,” he grimaces, turning back to look at the approaching bridge ahead of him. “It was certainly nasty. Once the chapel was cleared, all the Seiros Knights went back and holed up in their precious monastery.”

Edelgard’s interest is thoroughly piqued by this direction. “Oh? You speak as if you had some involvement in this.”

“I did,” he grimaces. “Anara, the bishop’s friend. She apparently had friends down here, and she anticipated an attack was coming.”

Edelgard’s expression pulls into one of surprise. “Are you saying that she...knew something?”

“I can’t tell you for sure. Most likely she was simply taking precautions. She made arrangements to get the old chapel tunnels cleared out and guarded so that Luzia could be taken through them if it came to that.”

“And it appears, that it did indeed come to that,” Edelgard continues, solemnly.

“Right. And with the knights gone, who was left to clean up the mess?”

Edelgard does not reply for a long moment, as the weight of this twisted irony is not lost on her. “Yuri.”

“Yeah?”

“I want to thank you, for trusting me.”

Yuri gives a wry laugh. “Sorry to disappoint, princess, but I still don’t trust you by a long shot. I’m just giving you what you’re owed,” he shrugs. “And hopefully, getting what you need will mean that you won’t be back down here with any of your surface buddies for a long while yet.”

Edelgard cracks a minute smile. “I see then. Regardless, your help is deeply appreciated.”

Yuri acknowledges her smile, but doesn’t quite return it, instead looking away and coughing into his fist. “So, now that we’ve paid the bishop a little visit, now all that remains is—”

“Finding Claude, and the rest of my companions,” Edelgard replies.

Yuri gives a short sigh. “Yeah, that.”

“And with that, I believe we can be on our way. I will inform Claude that Anara appears to be accounted for as well.”

“Yeah, she is. Just so you know, she’s going by Aniela down here. In case you run into her.”

“I will keep that in mind.”

They are silent for a few moments more, their bootsoles clicking against the flagstone bridge that takes them over the expansive underground ravine. At the other end however, they see someone quickly approaching. Yuri recognizes her as one of his messengers and so picks up his pace to meet her. Edelgard, seeing this, promptly keeps pace with him, only stopping a half pace behind him when Yuri and the messenger meet up.

“Boss! I found you—” the messenger gasps, straightening after she catches her breath.

“Yes yes, now what is it? You look frazzled, and that makes me nervous.” 

“Sorry boss!” She replies, facing him like any dutiful subordinate would. “I was checking the old Catacomb entrances just like you asked and well. Two of those surface visitors are there fiddling around with it. The Deer leader and some skinny kid in a normal uniform.”

Edelgard grimaces. “Linhardt…”

Yuri groans but then flashes a grin towards Edelgard. “Would you look at that? It looks like we found the rat after all. You can finally release me from your steel talons.”

Edelgard meets his gaze, not looking amused. “Indeed,” she then turns back to the scout. “I thank you. If you could guide me to their location—”

Yuri cuts her off. “Not to worry princess, I know where they are, and I’ll be taking you there,” he then gestures to dismiss the scout. 

Edelgard still gives a respectful farewell to the departing scout before following him.

* * *

Even with all their fiddling and investigating, the old catacomb entrance hadn’t so much as budged. Linhardt stands there, running his finger over a line of ancient runes while Claude now struggles with a rotating section of the door’s locking mechanism.

“Oh, whoops, I guess it was the other way after all.”

“I said clockwise, Claude.”

“I was turning it that way!”

“You were turning it left.”

“Huh, I guess you’re right.”

Linhardt then scoffs but makes no further comment. Linhardt remains absorbed, but he still notices when Claude suddenly ceases his fiddling and stands up. Linhardt glances over and sees him staring off in the distance with a serious look on his face. “What, is it another of those scouts?” Linhardt asks, turning to face Claude fully.

Claude shakes his head. “Dunno but it sounds like they brought friends.”

Linhardt steps just a little closer to Claude, perhaps wanting to touch him for support, but refraining as the footsteps they hear are growing ever louder. The tension however, finally melts away once they see who rounds the corner.

“Would you look at that, my other valiant rescuer finally arrives,” Claude states as soon as he catches sight of Edelgard.

Yuri, however, is there as well, frowning with his arms crossed as the two of them come to a stop near the ancient door.

Edelgard smirks minutely. “I am glad that Linhardt managed to find you in one piece.”

Claude nods before peeking around the two and looking down the hallway behind them. “Although I could have sworn there was meant to be a third amongst you.”

“I told you, Hilda and I split up earlier,” Linhardt mutters.

Claude’s gaze snaps back to Linhardt. “Right. Well, since we are all together now, I guess we just have to find her this time!”

“Oh no, you don’t. I’m not letting you out of my sight again,” Yuri grumbles. “Princess, bookworm. You’ve found your lost fawn, now we are sending you back above ground.”

Edelgard frowns. “We are not about to leave without our fourth companion.”

Yuri groans. “I know, I know. We’ll find her too. Just,” he makes a quick shooing motion. “Please…stop touching that door. That handle hasn’t been moved in centuries and we assume it’s for good reason.”

Claude grins and walks away from the door contraption with his hands up in surrender. “Of course, of course, I wouldn't want to risk crossing the Lord of the Underworld again. I know how you get when you’re angry.”

Yuri’s eyebrow twitches. “And yet you continue to vex me. Almost as if on purpose! You really must stop giving me these mixed signals, it’s very confusing for my poor heart.”

Claude lets out a loud laugh that echoes down the corridor. “That’s pretty rich coming from the guy who tied me to a chair and then insisted we play nice. I’m just giving back what you’re giving me.”

At that moment, another set of footsteps is heard from down the hallway. Whoever they are, is coming fast. Claude stiffens as the others become alert, even as the following voice floats over.

“Hey! Claude!? I swear that’s you!” Hilda then skids to a halt in front of them, bracing herself on her legs as she pants to catch her breath.

“Well, speak of the devil and she shall appear,” Claude says as he lets out a heavy breath of relief.

Edelgard relaxes too, as does Linhardt, both showing their relief in their own ways, while Yuri however stands there looking only slightly less irritated than before. “

Claude!” Hilda yells again once she catches her breath. “I was worried sick about you!” she says before throwing herself forward and slinging her arms around Claude.

Claude’s arms shoot up to brace her as the force of her hug makes him stagger slightly. He holds her close for a brief moment. Despite everything, Hilda still was his best friend. As much as Claude was always on his toes, making sure that he was one step ahead of everyone else; he found it always so easy to get swept up into Hilda’s pace. There was something about it that he found almost comforting.

But inevitably, that brief moment of comfort has to fade, and Claude had to plaster back on his smile and face the rest of this situation.

Claude glances around to everyone, placing his hands on his hips. “Well, now that we are all here—”

“You can all mosey out of here back to your safe warm beds,” Yuri butts in.

Edelgard shoots him another glare and Yuri retreats for the moment. “Not so fast. There is some information that you were so kind as to share with me that I would first like to impart upon them.”

Yuri sighs, keeping his arms crossed. “Fine, fine, what’s a few more minutes then,” he says, making a ‘go on’ motion with his hand before placing that hand to him temple.

Edelgard then clears her throat and faces her three classmates. “Claude, I am glad to find you...alive as Yuri assured us,” she says, as Claude’s general state was less than ideal given the last couple days he has had. “As it so happens, after I arrived here, Yuri was so kind as to take me to see one, Lukrezia von Hrym,” she says. “Better known to you as Luzia.”

“Well well well,” Claude says, crossing his arms, still facing Edelgard even as his head slides over to Yuri. “That's fantastic news. Especially since our friend Yuri here told me he had no idea where they were! Good thing he doesn't know everything, huh?"

Yuri lets out a heavy sigh. “I told you. For all I know, you could have been here to assassinate one or both of them.”

“But you were pretty quick to just let the Princess here in on every little detail then huh? And here I thought what you and I had could become something special.”

Yuri scowls at him. 

Edelgard then carefully interjects. “Claude. I can promise you an explanation. But for now, I ask that we prioritise getting you back above ground, and to an infirmary by the looks of it.”

She was right. He could only last so long, and already Linhardt’s magic was starting to fade. “Alright princess, I’ll hold you to it,” he winks. 

Linhardt lets out a sigh of relief from behind him, and Claude is once again made aware of his presence, and of Hilda’s both. He really does need to get back and rest or Claude might completely slip up. 

“Great!” Hilda says, clapping her hands together. “I actually just ran into the lady that guided us down here in the first place,” she says craning her head back in the direction she had arrived. “So with her help we can— huh?” she takes a few steps in that direction, frowning as she sees no sign of her. “Where the heck did she go!?” Hilda seems just a bit more upset that Claude would expect her to be, considering that this woman is theoretically a stranger, and so his attention is already slightly piqued.

Edelgard doesn’t appear to be too alarmed by Hilda’s response and so continues evenly. “That should be no issue, as Yuri here is so eager for us to leave, I expect that he will be glad to escort us out,” she says, turning to look at him pointedly.

Yuri’s lips twist slightly but he lifts a hand in resignation. “Fine. I don’t want you lot getting lost and killed on the way up, after all,” he grumbles, wasting no time in striking out to lead them away with a swish of his snow-white cape. 

Edelgard looks at her three companions, nodding before swiftly following him, Linhardt jogs up to her side, with Hilda and Claude trailing behind. With a look at his shaky state, Hilda wordlessly offers him an arm of support across his shoulders, to which he responds to favourably. They don’t speak, even though there is far more that still needs to be said. But at least, there is more understanding, even if it is yet fully unknown between them.

* * *

_ 2nd of ethereal moon _

Somehow, just like always, things manage to slide back towards something resembling normalcy, as it always must. Edelgard appears in the Black Eagles classroom, doing her best to show that nothing was amiss. She greets the professor and her classmates normally and goes to sit at the desk near the front of the classroom alongside Hubert. 

Linhardt, surprisingly made it in time as well, although he is collapsed at one of the middle desks, which is no real cause for alarm to anyone present. He is undisturbed, even as the beginning of class draws near, that is until one particular classmate decides to draw near.

“Lin? Hey Lin...” Caspar walks up to the other side of Linhardt’s desk, looking down with his friend; a look of rather obvious concern filling his face.

Linhardt turns his head to the side, peering up at Caspar with one eye. “Mm? What is it?”

“I couldn’t find you yesterday at all. You weren’t holed up in your room either...so I was just worried is all!”

“Oh,” Linhardt replies, turning his face back towards the table. Linhardt certainly wouldn’t be able to lie convincingly if Caspar could see his face at all. “My apologies, I must have overslept in the Library.”

Caspar frowns. “You weren't there either, I checked!”

Even with Caspar’s current display of determination, Linhardt can tell that Caspar is uneasy. Linhardt knows Caspar best, can read his minute changes in behavior, from the tension in his shoulders to the furrow of his brow. Caspar definitely feels at least a little guilty that he hadn’t been there to protect Linhardt this month(even though in all likelihood, that would have just endangered Caspar more,) Linhardt knows this, how despite his easy-going nature, certain worries can burrow in and linger. However, knowing this doesn’t mean that Linhardt has any idea what to do about it.

“Caspar!!” A sing-song voice suddenly comes from their right, followed immediately by Dorothea’s smiling face.

“Ah—Good morning!?” Caspar squeaks before Dorothea slings one arm over his shoulder, and somewhat subtly drags him just a bit away from Linhardt. She starts chattering about something or other that Linhardt can’t quite catch, instead, his thoughts begin whirling in a low hum.

Two nights ago, on the night of the Blue Lions’ return, Dorothea had been with Linhardt in his room too, having brought him a meal as she so often did during his isolation. It was peaceful, Linhardt found that he quite enjoyed those moments spent alone with Dorothea, despite her apparent social nature, she seemed more than happy to stay there in silence when needed. And on this day, Dorothea has brought something extra.

Linhardt’s custom uniform had been completely shredded in the attack, and so he had to wear a standard one in the days after. He was not bothered too much, there was nothing to be done as far as he knew. And so he had been rather surprised when Dorothea brought him a fresh one on that day, made to his every specification, just as his old one had been.

Dorothea placed the uniform on his bed and busies about making sure that he eats.

“If you need to, I can step out so you can try on the new uniform,” she asks, taking the time to fold up Linhardt’s spare shirts while he ate.

“Hm?” He looks up at her with a fork still in his mouth. “There’s no need, it’s just a uniform, right?”

“Yes, well. Bernadetta and Marianne were so kind as to put this one together actually, based on their best guess. So they wanted to know if it needs any adjusting.”

“Oh...” Linhardt’s eyes fall on the uniform. “Wait...Marianne? She helped make it?”

Dorothea smiles sheepishly. “Well, she refused to help sew, unfortunately. But she helped make the pattern for the cape which made Bernie’s work way easier.”

“I see...” he tears his eyes away, his cheeks slightly pink as he works on the rest of his food. 

Suddenly, the pair hear the sound of crashing footsteps approaching. Followed immediately by a fist pounding repeatedly on Linhardt’s door. Linhardt jerks in surprise, his eyes going wide, even at the sound of the following voice.

“Linhardt. Linhardt!? Are you in there?!”

Linhardt appeared almost shell-shocked at that exact moment, Dorothea lunges forward, kneeling in front of him and looking up at his pale face.

“Caspar!” Dorothea scolds.

“Oh, wait. Did I get the wrong room? Sorry!”

Dorothea scoffs. “No! Just, wait right there, Caspar!”

“But, I need to see Linhardt!”

“He’s right in here!” She says, now in a hushed tone as one of her hands goes to rest on Linhardt’s shoulder. 

“What is Linhardt doing in your room?”

Linhardt then takes in a deep breath and forces himself to straighten. “Caspar, this is my room.”

“Linhardt!” The door to Linhardt’s room then bursts open and Caspar stumbles inside. He stops just a few paces away from where Linhardt sits on the bed. Linhardt is still looking straight forward, not meeting Dorothea’s eyes but also not looking Caspar’s way.

“Caspar,” Dorothea says firmly, looking at him again. “Please at least close the door behind you.”

“Oh! Sure!” He says, quickly doubling back and closing the door as carefully as he can. He then returns, walking up and stopping just a couple paces away from them.

“Lin? Are you alright?”

Linhardt nods.

“Caspar, have you heard what happened?”

“Yeah, Professor Veles told me,” he said, swallowing thickly as he takes in Linhardt’s suddenly shaken state. 

Dorothea shoots him a brief glare. “Please then, keep your voice down. He’s still recovering.”

Linhardt shakes his head. “I am no longer injured, Dorothea.” 

Dorothea doesn’t look convinced. “Caspar,” she soothes. “How about we both let Linhardt rest tonight, and you can talk to him tomorrow, okay?”

Caspar looks to Dorothea, his eyes wide. He’s confused, worried, and feels pretty helpless, but for the moment he relents. “Okay,” his eyes fall to the floor, almost not wanting to look at Linhardt anymore.

That had been the last moment they had spoken, and so of course, Caspar was more than disappointed with not having been able to see Linhardt the night before. But unfortunately, Linhardt doesn’t really have a satisfying answer for him.

“It’s fine, Lin. You were probably hanging out with Claude, right? You can just say it, I won’t get mad.”

Linhardt opens his mouth to reply but his lips snap shut when he sees Caspar’s expression. Again, the same as Linhardt had seen at the beginning of the month, something distantly sad that Linhardt couldn’t fully identify. 

At that moment, a sudden soft sound comes from the doorway, soft enough that most would likely miss it. Linhardt however takes that opportunity to push himself up and turn towards the voice.

“Marianne?” He asks, standing up promptly and staggering over to the door. He keeps a few paces away, seeing her shrink away as she usually did. Marianne glances up at him nervously and then back to the floor.

“Uhm...Linhardt,” she begins. “I’m sorry if this is inappropriate, but...” she swallows. “Uhm, Claude is in the infirmary.”

“What?!” Dorothea then suddenly rushes over leaving poor Caspar in the lurch. Fixing Marianne with a well-meaning, but still intense gaze. “Oh dear, what happened?”

“Uhm, I’m not sure, Manuela wouldn’t say...” she mutters.

Dorothea then looks to Linhardt expectantly. 

“Yes? Can I help you?”

Dorothea shakes her head. “Lin. Are you—do you want to go visit him?”

Linhardt gives a small shrug. “I imagine that I won’t be permitted to at this exact moment.”

“Nonsense,” Dorothea says, placing a hand on Linhardt’s shoulders. “Edie, Professor—we can postpone lessons just a bit, right?”

“There’s really no need,” Linhardt mutters.

“Ah—” Marianne reaches out a hand. “It’s okay, uhm. Well, the golden deer were all going to get gifts for him and. Well, I thought you might—”

Dorothea nods, clapping her hands together. “You want us to pitch in, too? Of course.” She then gives another expectant look to Linhardt which he responds to with a grimace. 

“Ah—” Marianne shakes her hands. “You needn’t trouble yourself, really.”

“I’m sure we can rustle something up, right, Edelgard?” She says, turning around to face their house leader.

Edelgard looks back at her neutrally. “We can, I am sure. I was intending to visit Claude to discuss things otherwise, and so I can deliver the gift you come up with at that time.”

Dorothea frowns. “You’re gonna make Claude talk about house leader business while he’s still recovering?”

Edelgard’s expression becomes just the slightest bit sheepish.

“I doubt that Claude will want to be coddled,” Linhardt says suddenly, causing the others around him to go rather silent. His insistence on ignorance regarding Claude seeming to be rather contradictory.

Dorothea nods and gives him a rather gentle smile. “Well, then, I suppose I have no real place to object then.”

Linhardt then looks back at Marianne as she seems ready to slink away. “Marianne.”

She starts slightly and stops in place. “Yes...Linhardt?”

“Thank you for your help,” he nods, moving one arm to demonstrate the drape of his uniform cape.

Marianne’s cheeks flush pink and her eyes widen. She bows her head and then suddenly rushes away from the Black Eagles Classroom door, Linhardt at least not appearing to be bothered by the seemingly odd display. Turning back towards his classmates, he floats over to his desk. The chatter continues. Linhardt knows that he wants to see Claude later, but there’s an odd hesitation building in him. He folds his arms on the desk and places his chin upon them, his lips turning into the smallest frown even as he wanted to resist it. He hadn’t been able to sleep hardly at all the night before. Worry about Claude, continued curiosity and spiraling thoughts about the things they had probed at in Abyss. Right now, he just wants to rest, but he knows that the incessant flow of these events will continue to drag him along no matter the resistance he attempts. 


	15. Uncertain Loyalty Part II

_ 2nd of Ethereal Moon _

Almost as if by some miracle, Claude had managed to be taken to the infirmary without many others being the wiser. Surely, the church would have to be suspicious, but Veles and Bileth at least had managed to cover for them. Bileth took Claude in, managing to convince Manuela that it was just a training mishap. Perhaps she had other suspicions, but she seemed more than willing to keep quiet and get Claude taken care of with no further questions.

The fading effects of Linhardt’s spell are compensated for by Manuela’s own magic, and her potent remedies, and Claude sleeps as sound as he ever could. Until however, the next morning finally breaks.

Claude is suddenly awakened by a sharp knock on the door. Before he even registers the owner of the voice, his hand goes under the pillow instinctively.

“Claude? It is me, Edelgard.” With the sound of her voice, he also realises where he is, and that he is not in immediate danger. Even so, Claude relaxes only slightly. 

“Come on in,” he calls, letting himself relax back onto the bed as best he can.

The infirmary door then opens and Edelgard lets herself in. “I can still return at a later time if you are not up to speaking with me at this time,” she says, approaching his bedside with something almost seeming like hesitation weighing down her steps.

Claude’s eyes fall upon the small bouquet of flowers in her hand, and then he looks up at her with a grin. "Well well, are those for me? First you lead the charge to rescue me and now flowers—if I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to court me," he says with a somewhat sluggish wink.

“I assume that you do know better,” Edelgard says with a quirk of her brow. “This is a gift from the Black Eagles as a whole,” she then carefully places the blooms on the small table at his bedside. He glances over, seeing how her gift was set just slightly separated from the rest. Maybe she was being considerate of the other gifts, or maybe she didn’t feel that her gift belonged there.

"Well, convey my thanks to the Black Eagles, then. That's awfully kind of them," he says, his tone light with genuine pleased surprise.

“I shall.”

Claude’s eyes linger on the table perhaps a moment too long. He really doesn’t know what all the fuss was about, according to Hilda and Bileth, they were the only two who really noticed he was gone. And yet, the deer had been eager to flood him with support and gifts. It’s not like Claude had been mortally wounded or anything so dramatic, but he can’t deny that the gesture elicits, some sort of positive reaction within him. Far too many complicated feelings bubble up. He’s happy, but he also knows not to get his hopes up,

He then gets himself upright in the bed, making great effort not to visibly struggle too much. But he swears that Edelgard’s gaze remains wary, even as she pulls up a chair and takes a seat by his bedside. She folds her hands carefully in her lap and sits up straight, almost in mocking contrast to Claude’s shaky slouch and disheveled state.

“Actually, I was hoping to speak with you, only if you are up to it,” she says, her face carefully blank for the moment. 

"You know me—if I'm conscious, I'm up for talking," he grins at her briefly, 

Edelgard’s face takes on a pleased expression. “I appreciate it. I have a mind not to trust everything that Yuri assured me at face value. I assume that you also share that inclination.”

Claude lets out a sharp laugh. "Yeah. Considering he definitely flat out lied to me at least once, I think we can agree on that."

“Yuri did express regret to me over that fact, for whatever that may be worth.” 

“Ah, nice of him to express his regret to you at least. Maybe he was just intimidated by your imperious glare. You had the advantage of not being tied to a chair on top of that.”

Edelgard frowns. “I can’t help but doubt that is the real reason. But, unfortunately I do not have any better answer.”

Claude would have to think on that later, the fact that Yuri had told Edelgard so openly about Luzia and Anara. Claude knew there had to be some significant reason. Maybe Edelgard held some leverage over the underground lord that Claude has yet to become aware of. 

Edelgard continues. “Which is to say, I would like to hear about what happened to you, in your own words. “

Claude nods. “What happened to me is that I went down there and Yuri’s thugs decided it was open season on poor, unsuspecting surface dwellers,” he says, his tone taking on an exaggerated put-upon tone. “At that point I was more than willing to leave, but there was one of me and five of them. When I came to, Yuri was giving me the third degree and I had a splitting headache. As you might imagine, he’s not exactly my most favourite guy right now.” 

“And I would also appreciate knowing exactly what led you to probe in Abyss.” She asks evenly. 

Then he shrugs. “I told you, I asked around looking for leads on where Anara might have gone and Abyss sounded like as good a candidate as any.” 

“I see,” she replies, carefully slotting it together in her mind with the story that Yuri had seen fit to provide her.

“What I’m curious about is how you knew to look for me there,” Claude prods in return.

Edelgard nods. “The truth is, there was a time in my life not long ago when I myself was not much different from many of those who dwell there,” she continues. “9 years ago, I was forced to flee Adrestia after a coup and seek refuge in a foreign land.”

Claude listens with growing interest. It's not often Edelgard deigns to share much of anything about herself. "Ah, I remember hearing about the coup." Only last year, when his grandfather was cramming as much information into his head as was practically possible. “Pretty nasty business. But hey, I’m glad you made it out in one piece.”

Edelgard stiffens minutely and swiftly continues. “Since then, I have included consideration for refugees amongst my preparations to become Emperor. Even if I am powerless to help them now, I can use what resources I have to learn as much as I can until my coronation.”

Claude gives an impressed huff. "I wouldn't have expected that kind of sentiment from the ruthless Lady Hresvelg. I'm impressed." 

She huffs in slight annoyance at his remark and decides to simply move on to answering his questions. “But, to your point, I was not certain that you yourself were in Abyss, I merely had the suspicion that Anara would have fled there, given what I learned about her covert release.”

"How did you learn about her release in the first place? Or Abyss, for that matter?”

“As the first Hresvelg attending this school in nearly a decade, it is only prudent to keep watchful eyes wherever necessary, considering that the Empire and the Church have not been on the best of terms for nearly a century, as I am sure you are aware.” While it might seem to be revealing to others; really, this was just standard levels of paranoia for the next emperor. Her own father had in truth been far too fond of this place in her opinion. 

Claude grins. "Trust me, I've got my own reasons to keep a watchful eye on everything around here."

Edelgard meets his eyes meaningfully for a brief moment. “Which is to say, I learned of her release through my own sources. I was also aware of Abyss and their movements through similar means.”

"Ah, by 'your own sources' you mean Hubert." Having someone she knows without a doubt that she can trust, someone she never has to worry about betraying her or changing his mind about her, Claude can’t help but feel a little jealous. “Also, mind if I ask which foreign land you stayed in? International relations are a particular interest of mine."

She then grimaces. “I do not mind if you ask, but I am afraid that you will be disappointed. I was very young at the time and I was not even fully aware of where we were hiding. It was not an official diplomatic process after all.”

His eyebrows lift. "It was nine years ago, so you would have been about eight, right? I don't know about you, but I remember plenty from that age." Hard not to, really. Nobody's ever mentioned where you were since then, either."

“I was returned to the Empire when it was safe to do so. My maternal uncle, Volkhard von Arundel then assumed Regency of the Empire, and I have been preparing for my own ascendancy ever since.”

These facts that she relays to Claude, they are not her own memories, and so she holds no attachment, no ownership over them. They are things that Hubert and other advisors have told her. The memories she does have of that time...of being locked under ground—the screams of her dying siblings— those are things she wishes she could forget as easily as those years in Asylum. 

“Regardless, the point is that, Abyss could have very well been one of the places I ended up. My Uncle was always very devout and even asked the church to shelter us. But otherwise, I fail to see why any further details of my exile would be relevant to this discussion.” Her tone is remarkably lacking in defensiveness. 

He shrugs. "They're not, I was just curious. Like I said, I'm keen on learning more about relationships between nations, so if the Empire has a friendly connection across borders, that interests me." Claude has a feeling that even if Edelgard really doesn't know, Hubert almost certainly does. Something that he might want to follow up upon later. 

"Tangent aside, what now?" Claude lowers his voice, glancing briefly toward the door to make sure no one is going to interrupt. "We know Luzia and Anara are alive, we know Anara's innocent, but we need to find out what really happened. Plus, I'd like to do a little digging on our buddy Yuri, give us a little leverage next time we want to go snooping around down there."

“Yuri, I knew of his name alone. He was at one point the adopted heir to house Rowe. He was enrolled in the academy last year,” she grimaces. “Monica, the girl recovered from the underground along with Flayn. She was his classmate. That is however mostly the extent of my knowledge,” her lips turn down into a slight frown. “Although, I wonder what you hope to accomplish. Is your aim that with some intel on him you will be able to avoid being chased off so insistently again?”

Claude takes a moment to study her face. She literally just said it's prudent to keep a watchful eye on everything. Why would the only remaining heir to the Alliance's leading house not want to know more about the guy in charge of a secret class in a secret town under the monastery full of people with nothing but secrets? Maybe instead she's trying to imply that he shouldn't. Which is fascinating in and of itself.

"The Church is hiding an entire town full of refugees, criminals, and outcasts under the monastery, and one of them held me prisoner for a day and a half. You can't seriously think I don't view them as a potential threat. One word of what happened down there to my grandfather, and the Alliance will be all over Rhea for an explanation.” He pauses. “Now, I'd rather not do that, because as far as I can tell, most of the people in Abyss have nothing to do with any of this, and it would go poorly for them.” 

“Indeed; and my impression is that the only reason you were allowed to wander as much as you were was because of that threat of retaliation hanging over their heads.” She sighs.

“But Yuri and his people have all kinds of information on us up here—gods only know how much. And on top of that, their library is chock full of banned books and forbidden texts the Church would never want anyone to see. Is that really the kind of guy you expect me to turn a blind eye to?"

“I know that I cannot stop you, I would have tried to stop you if I had known your intentions earlier. It is dangerous for that very reason. You know as well as I that Anara would have been executed if it hadn’t been more beneficial to use her as a bargaining chip. The church will not hesitate to trample more innocents under their heel if they are given the excuse; and goddess forbid, incentive from one of their precious nobility.” Edelgard closes her eyes briefly and forces her fists to unclench in her lap.

"That's exactly why, and you'd better believe I was out to take full advantage of it while I had the chance. If I hadn't been wearing my uniform, he wouldn't have recognized me and I might be dead by now." The words sound matter-of-fact, but the thought that one slip-up landed him in the hands of someone who probably wouldn't hesitate to slit his throat if he thought he could get away with it still preys on Claude's mind. He should have known that even here at the monastery, behind thick walls and protected by the Knights of Seiros themselves, he's never safe. Making friends he legitimately cares about has dulled the edge of his instincts; he'll have to use this experience as a whetstone.

For instance, he thinks, he should be observing Edelgard more carefully than he has previously. She has some kind of extremely personal stake in all this, that much is for sure. This disdain for the nobility isn't something he's seen out of her before, either, and although she's occasionally made vague comments about the Church as an institution, this is the first time she's been so definitively critical. And she isn't wrong, either—after what happened to Lord Lonato and his people, and then to Anara as a scapegoat for Rhea's anger. He doubts he'll ever actually have any inclination to pit the Roundtable against the Church. Still, it's an option available to him, and he can't completely write it off just yet. He has to survive to come into his inheritance, and he's not going to give someone like Yuri the chance to jeopardize that again.

"I know." He shakes his head. "I don't plan to give them that excuse, but I also don't plan to let Yuri get away with all this scot-free. So I'm taking matters into my own hands. That's what I mean by leverage."

"I do also share your desire to find the truth behind this incident. That is not something I have any reason to oppose,” she relents. “But I suppose you also intend to exact some sort of payback against Yuri for his apparent obstruction of those efforts?” She asks with a small frown. 

"I don't blame him for lying to me. He had no reason to believe I wasn't there for some nefarious plot. And I don't need payback—this is the game we play, and there really are no rules. Not ones I care to follow, at least." He finds it hard to put into words at first, this drive to dig until he unearths the truth of this mysterious rival—not for any specific purpose, but to defend himself in the future. To know what he might be up against, what he might be able to use, and how he might be able to turn Yuri into an ally. "But he's a new and dangerous variable in an already complicated situation, and I don't like variables I don't know how to account for. I'd have thought you would understand—isn't that why you have your own personal spy meddling in everyone's affairs all the time?"

She grimaces slightly at his playful jab and suppresses a sigh. “It was not my intention to try and imply that my activities are somehow different or superior to yours. You are correct, it would seem that our instincts are similar in this regard,“ she then presses her lips together. “Yuri did say that he would be open to cooperating with us again in the future once things have calmed down, whenever Rhea sees fit to quietly return to her idea of peace.” 

“Huh. Cooperating with us, or with you? Somehow, I doubt he has any desire to see me again." 

“I do hope that your brief abduction does not cause further scandal, but I can see that you intend to avoid that, so I have no further objections.” She wanted to keep him out, away from those secret catacombs where she knew their true enemy would often writhe, but she had nothing else that would not cast more suspicion on herself. 

Then he smirks at her. "Oh, I'm so glad to have Her Imperial Highness' permission. Whew! Now I can finally breathe easy."

“You seem to intend to have some manner of dealings with him regardless,” she replies, shaking her head. “It is not that you need my permission, I have no dominion over you. I merely have no desire to see you needlessly killed, should I be able to prevent it,” she sighs. “And while your personal relationships are not my business, I cannot afford to ignore it when it involves one of my own.” She sighs sharply. “Linhardt, having been collateral damage in this incident I imagine is also part of your motivation. And likewise, it plays into my own desires for both answers and discretion.” 

This causes Claude’s hackles to rise. Even as Edelgard had revealed far more about herself than he had anticipated, they had made no such deal that Claude would have to be open in return. Much less about something as delicate as this. "Ah, you're absolutely right—they're none of your business." He says this cheerfully, with a pleasant smile. Then he yawns. "I'm afraid I'm feeling pretty tired, I must not be fully recovered after all. Thanks for the flowers and the chat, Edelgard." He lies back down.

“I apologise then if I overstepped,” it would be best to leave this alone. Although Claude’s resistance to the matter did sow minor seeds of doubt as to whether this would end well for Linhardt. She then stands up from her chair, glancing at the table of gifts once more. “I bid you a speedy recovery. Good day,” she says, before exiting the infirmary as swiftly as she arrived.


	16. Uncertain Loyalty Part III

_ 2nd of Ethereal moon, afternoon _

Linhardt quite frankly feels like he might yet be ill. It is different this time, not as sharp as the blood-induced nausea he has become so accustomed to biting back. But instead, it is as if something deep within him feels off-kilter. 

Edelgard made it clear that she went to visit Claude as soon as classes concluded. Linhardt, however, could not leave the classroom fast enough. There is very little that he wants to do more at the moment than to go and see Claude immediately, but he resists. 

Why is this bothering him so much? Linhardt knows that Claude is always hesitant to show his vulnerabilities around others. Things like physical touch declarations of affection always draw far too much attention and scrutiny. Linhardt shares those sentiments,and yet the doubts have begun to accumulate in his mind.. Since Edelgard had affirmed to him that morning after the attack, that she supported whoever he chose to love—Linhardt had begun to really and truly think, about what Claude means to him.

The unspoken assumption in his mind had always been that this was merely a tryst. Something enjoyable, exploring and testing the waters with one another. Casual, but still meaningful. However, that had changed, the moment that Linhardt had heard those words of Almyran poetry fall from Claude’s lips.

Somehow, even if at the time Linhardt had not thought much on it, the significance had never been lost on him. The way that Claude’s face changed from gentle enrapturement to pure fear in an instant—

What had Claude been expecting? For Linhardt to ridicule him? To reject him? Assuming that Linhardt even recognised those words as Almyran to begin with. 

_“Would you look at that, I’m so exhausted that I’m talking gibberish.”_

But it wasn’t gibberish, it was Almyran. Linhardt doesn’t know for sure, but he can surmise that it is Claude’s mother tongue, judging by how effortlessly it fell from Claude’s lips. It seems obvious to Linhardt, but clearly not to everyone else, as Claude himself had commented on. 

It baffles him, but even Hilda seemed not to know…despite how…

Linhardt had noticed their closeness early on, in the early months when Linhardt had only a passing crush on Claude. It had concerned him more than he was willing to admit, even back then. Concern perhaps being the wrong word; but it did draw his focus, and stuck in his mind. To the point that Linhardt assumed that they would soon become a couple. But instead, it became Linhardt who was stealing kisses with the golden deer house leader behind a bookshelf in the dead of night.

Remembering now what Hilda had said those few days ago, how she had assumed that Claude trusted Linhardt, that they were dating. And the heavy feeling that sparked in Linhardt’s chest hasn’t faded since then. And in every moment after, when Claude pushed him away in the Abyss library; when he kept his distance in the hallway; and when he embraced Hilda at the ancient door. It all served to make the feeling darken and harden.

Linhardt doesn’t mind if Claude likes Hilda, or even dates her. But Linhardt does seem to care if Claudes affections suddenly dry up towards Linhardt himself.

Linhardt’s feet carry him away from the classrooms in the opposite direction of the infirmary. Instead he returns to the fishing pond, fairly abandoned even now in the mid-afternoon hours. 

He stands there, looking out, although not really focusing on anything before his eyes. The northward breeze floats up and dashes his hair about his face, ruffling his cape and wide trousers. The sun glints off of the surface of the water. For a brief moment, Linhardt is reminded of how Claude looked on that night, moonlight colouring the lines of his face, starlight reflected in those green eyes. How concerned and attentive Claude had been. His gentle touch, and warm breath against Linhardt’s skin.

And yet, when morning came, Claude was gone.

“Hey!” An exuberant voice calls out from behind Linhardt causing him to whip around.

Doing so, Linhardt sees none other than Caspar bounding towards him. “Caspar...” Linhardt breathes. 

“What’s going on? Aren’t you going to see Claude?” Caspar asks, looking genuinely concerned. Whatever malice or jealousy one might expect him to feel being no where to be seen on his face.

Linhardt shakes his head. “You know me better than anyone, Caspar,” Linhardt shrugs. “The more people insist that I do something, the more I am inclined to avoid it.”

Caspar tilts his head to the side. “Hm? I mean yeah but. Claude’s really important to you, right?”

Linhardt nods.

“Then I don’t get it. You still want to see him, don’t you?”

Linhardt remains silent.

Caspar still looks confused. “Look, Linhardt,” Caspar continues, releasing a short breath. “You don’t gotta hide it from me. Yeah we’ve been together most of our lives; the best of friends, sworn to be together forever,” he says while scratching the back of his head. “But you really don’t need to coddle me. I can handle it.”

“Handle...what?” Linhardt asks, raising an eyebrow.

“You and Claude are really similar right? I bet he loves hearing you talk about all that super complicated crest stuff, everything I can’t even wrap my head around.”

Linhardt narrows his eyes, unsure of where Caspar’s wandering thoughts are leading him at this exact moment. 

“You hang out in the library all the time, so I bet it really makes you happy to finally have a best friend that gets you like that,” Caspar shrugs, only now, the hint of a bitter expression creeping onto his face.

“Best...friend?” Linhardt asks. “Caspar, what are you talking about?”

Caspar waves a hand. “It’s okay, really! I’m happy for you,” he says, even thought Linhardt can hear the tell-tale sign of Caspar’s throat tightening with held-back tears. “I really, really am. Especially since I really don’t get at all what happened to you, and why you’re acting so different now. I can take it.”

Linhardt’s lips twitch as some things start to fall into place. There was still a whole great deal left to unravel about the previous moon, but there is one thing at least that Linhardt knows he can clarify at this exact moment.

“Caspar, let me see if I can get this straight,” Linhardt says, crossing his arms. “Have you got it into your head somehow that I no longer need you? That we aren’t best friends any longer?”

Caspar’s face grows inquisitive again. “I mean, yeah. Why else would you be spending so much time with him? And having sleepovers and all that?”

Linhardt lets out a gargantuan sigh. A headache he thought defeated now starting to pound again at his temples. “Caspar. Claude and I are romantically involved.”

Caspar’s lips fall open. “Ohhhhhhhh....”

Linhardt rolls his eyes. “Caspar, how could you possibly think otherwise?”

Caspar’s cheeks flush and he pouts. “I dunno! You just spent a lot of time together and didn’t tell me anything!”

Linhardt’s lips crack into a warm smile. “Honestly Caspar. We have been friends this long. At this point, I sincerely doubt there is anything left that could possibly drive us apart.”

Caspar looks relieved, even as his nervous energy continues to jitter his frame, but most importantly, he smiles. “”Yeah, you’re right! I shouldn’t have worried!” he says before his lips quickly crease again into a frown. “Okay, but if you and Claude are dating, then—why aren’t you going to go see him?”

Linhardt’s stomach drops as the unfamiliar burn of falsehood burns up his throat. “”Well…when I say ‘dating,’… “ he grimaces. “It’s not exactly, official, per se.”

Caspar continues to give Linhardt a puzzled look.

”Besides, Edelgard said she was going to speak with him today,” Linhardt shrugs.”

“Well,” Caspar lets out a short sigh. “I might not get it, but I’m here for you, Linhardt.”

Linhardt’s expression finally melts again into something warm. “Thank you, Caspar.

* * *

Edelgard makes her way swiftly from the infirmary. She needs to be alone right now. At least— away from her classmates and professor. She storms by, only sparing a passing glance when she does see Veles near the training grounds. She gives an apologetic smile and flashes a sign with her hand that tells her ‘later, we will speak’.

Although Edelgard cannot guarantee exactly when that will be. For the moment, she cloisters herself in her room. The cool dark at first a comfort for her strained senses, but the creeping shadows soon necessitate the lighting of a lantern. 

She sits down at her desk, first resting her face in her hands. While solitude is what she initially sought, her definition of such a thing still leaves the door open to one person alone.

“Lady Edelgard,”

The soft voice comes to her, not as an intrusion, but as a comfort. The omnipresent tension in her shoulders wanes just a fraction, as she knows that she is just a little less vulnerable now.

“Hubert,” she replies, not yet turning around. He has been working for her in the shadows this entire time, and in truth he has not been far away. Several of his agents still resided in Abyss, although even their watchful eye could not at all compare to the security that she now feels. “I informed Claude of some of the details of my situation,” she says, placing her quill-pen down and rubbing her temples.

”Oh? Nothing too revealing I assume.”

“No, however,” she turns around in her desk chair although not yet looking directly at Hubert. I feel like I may have gained some new key insight,” she continues.

Just a few moons back, when Edelgard had first directly confronted Claude about his mysterious origins, he had kept his lips tightly sealed. 

Everyone knew that Lord Oswald’s eldest son had died in a tragic “accident”. However, according to Edelgard and Hubert’s information, that incident was about as “accidental” as the attempt on Luzia’s life had been. Duke Riegan did have another child, a daughter called Tiana. But as she was not set to inherit the Duchy, nor did she seem to have any crest to speak of, she was not particularly active in Leicester politics. In fact, if one were to make a deduction based on the available information, one could assume that she had no interest in noble life at all.

“As it happens, your highness,” Hubert says, his gloved hand disappearing into the fold of his jacket and re-emerging holding a letter. “Along with your personal decent into abyss, I have now received some more detailed intelligence from my agents,” he says, extending a hand for Edelgard the take the letter.

“I was aware that a Leicester outlaw of note made his way to Abyss just as this year began, but I have now collected a rather complete dossier on him.”

Edelgard meets Hubert’s gaze for a brief moment, curious, but trusting that this was indeed relevant to what she was pursuing.

“In the interest of answering your query, my lady. The documents concern one Balthus von Albrecht, former heir to a minor Leicester house near the Almyran border in the lands between Edmund and Goneril.”

“I see,” she says, opening the letter and unfolding Hubert’s neat documents before her.

“Most notably, it appears that he was, until very recently, under the employ of Count Gloucester,”

Edelgard grimaces.

“However, the earliest point of interest is that he was once the pupil of one Tiana von Riegan.”

She raises an eyebrow even as she begins to peruse the document for herself. “The Archduke’s daughter?”

“Precisely.”

According to the information provided by Balthus himself, and cross-referenced with available Monastery records from his academy dates; Tiana von Riegan disappeared from the Alliance around 1160. Which would make it possible for her to have in fact been Claude’s mother. 

While Claude claimed to be the child of a Riegan branch family that just so happened to bear a crest; that alone would not have been enough to secure him as the heir, as desperate as house Riegan was to maintain power. Claude in fact being the biological grandson of the Archduke, now that at least cleared up the mystery of Claude’s lightning fast ascendency and recognition. 

The question remains however, the identity of Claude’s father.

She reads the rest of the report in silence, allowing the information to settle in her mind. 

“This, Balthus. He was contracted previously by Count Gloucester?”

“Yes. And apparently, he was told that if he provided information on the Riegan heir, the Count would forgive his accumulated debts.”

“I see…” she mutters. “And yet, he ended up seeking refuge in Abyss. Perhaps he failed to find anything of substance?”

“Perhaps. But considering his focus, I think it to be reckless to assume that he knows nothing.” He is right, as frankly, learning as much about Claude is becoming more imperative with every passing moment.

“Indeed,” she replies. “I spoke with Claude today.”

“Yes, and you mentioned that you got rather…detailed, with him,” Hubert grimaces, his cautious distrust of Claude beyond rivalling her own.

“Again I did not reveal anything inopportune,” she says with a wave of her hand. “But it is safe to say that he is suspicious of the ease with which I entered and moved about abyss,” she sighs. “I can only hope that my explanation was satisfactory to him,” she says, before continuing and quickly summarising the rest of what she discussed with Claude.

“Interesting,” Hubert says, resting a hand on his chin when she finishes. “Can I surmise that the point of interest is…Claude’s pursuit of the country in which you sought asylum?”

“Yes,” she nods. “Although not unheard for a Fódlani noble to at least have a passing interest in diplomatic relations, it is still quite rare,” she says with a grimace. “And also judging by the fact that he was surprised that I cared at all for the vagabonds who scape by below our feet.” However, Edelgard has shown one card to Claude which she is not fully sure if is was wise to do so. He now knows at least a little about her disdain for the church and their regime. 

“It appears nearly certain to me that Claude’s father must be of Almyran ancestry,” she says plainly. “He told me that he came here to Fódlan to seek allies, find power to achieve his goals,” she then turns to Hubert again. “It is even more pertinent now that we seek to demystify those goals.”

“Should it come to it, I have no doubt that the Alliance would eventually fall against the Empire’s fill strength.”

Edelgard scowls. “The Alliance is not our enemy, Hubert.”

“Yes, of course your Highness.”

Edelgard then lets out a heavy sigh. “Yuri had interest in working with me once again. He is intelligent and clearly wishes to stay in my good graces,” she stands up from her desk. “Additionally I think that the presence of the former Nouvelle heir will also prove to be significant,” she nods. “My orders are as such. I would like you to give a directive to your agents to keep a particular eye on Luzia, make sure she is safe,” she nods, fully straightening and facing her gaze out the window. “That along with anything might be of use in regards to…Claude,” she continues while her face creases once again.

“Of course, Lady Edelgard,” Hubert says, bowing deeply with a hand on his heart. “Shall I now take my leave?”

“No,” Edelgard says, her throat tightening minutely. “I would like you to yet stay.”

“As you wish.”

* * *

Veles’ feet carry her down the hallway to where she knows her brother now is. His worry for Claude had been almost overpowering since the moment that Claude’s absence had become apparent. Veles knew, and so she knows to find Bileth now that she can.

She stops outside of the infirmary door, thankfully not needing to wait too long before he emerges.

Bileth’s face is seemingly blank, his eyes downcast. He closes the door behind him and looks up once he notices his sister’s presence. 

“How is he?” Veles’ hands ask once his eyes fall upon her.

“Better,” he replies with a quick flick of his fingers.

Veles nods. “Edelgard told me, of where they went yesterday,” she says, her posture shifting so that only Bileth can see the motions of her hands. 

“Right,” Bileth nods. “And Edelgard was just here, Claude told me.” He glances down the hallway behind his sister and nods for them to start walking. They make their way down the hallway, their hands moving quickly and rapidly like subdued chatter just for the two of them. But before they turn to take the stairs, the door to the Audience Chamber swings open.

Dimitri emerges, striding forward with the doors slamming shut behind him. He appears lost in thought and very nearly crashes directly into the professors before he notices them.

“Oh!” He exclaims, stopping in his tracks, his face deathly pale. “Professors, forgive me, I did not see you there.”

Veles’ lips fall down into a small frown, and before her brother can even address him, both her hands dart up to suddenly cup Dimitri’s face. 

Dimitri’s eyes widen as soon as her gloved fingertips glance his skin. He jerks back, one foot sliding back as if part way to a fighting stance. “Ah! Forgive me professor—”

“You look unwell,” Veles’ hands reply, her gaze unwavering even in Dimitri’s sudden rash of shame.

He forces himself to look away, only for his eyes to move to Bileth. “Ah, my apologies. I am—” he presses his lips together and swallows thickly. “I was actually just on my way to the training grounds. If you could join me?” he asks, his voice shaking slightly. “Truthfully, I am glad to have run into you, I have some things to impart upon you.”

The twins follow Dimitri down the hallway and the stairs to the first floor. Remaining silent until he began to lead them in the direction of the training grounds.

“I have little doubt that Rhea will soon summon you or your house leaders in due time,” he says before exhaling a sharp sigh. “But it is important to me that you know as soon as possible,” he grimaces, pushing open the training hall doors and allowing the twins to go in ahead of him.

“What is it?” Bileth asks.

Dimitri takes another moment to steel himself, a torrent of unseen emotions clearly brewing under the surface. Dimitri nods. “It would appear that the Archbishop is not intending to use your classes for this moon,” he says, shuddering ever so slightly as he remembers the ice-cold glint in her eyes. “However, she has a mission for my class. For which she stipulated, that mission assistance from other classes will not be permitted.

“That does seem odd,” Bileth says while frowning. “Some of our students were even allowed to accompany you to the kingdom. Is the mission important?”

Dimitri shakes his head. “Not that I can tell. It is not something of extreme secrecy or delicacy. We are being tasked with investigating some sort of...calamity in Remire village.”

The twins remain silent for a moment as that sinks in. The village where the Eisners had first gotten tangled up with the students of the officers’ academy. A village that their father had even grown fond of. A place that had shown such deep kindness to both Eisner twins and their fellow mercenaries. To be prevented from being able to lend them aide? Perhaps Rhea was more incensed by their insubordination than she was willing to let on.

“Thank you for telling us, Dimitri,” Bileth assures. 

Dimitri nods, his long legs carrying him out further ahead of them, not wanting to dwell too much on what was truly disturbing him. The feeling that Rhea was still hiding something. The fact that she was hiding her part in the chaos caused by Anara’s false accusal. There was a whole underground contingent to the monastery that she apparently had some sort of dealings with, also secret.

The three emerge into the training grounds, the twitching of Dimitri’s hands seeming to only subdue once they are wrapped securely around the shaft of a lance. The twins, while they do so very often take to venting their frustrations through training in similar ways, hang back for the moment. They turn towards one another, exchanging quick hand movements as they converse, and process, delving also into the information that their respected house leaders also imparted upon them.

Dimitri, however does eventually tire slightly, stopping to rest while planting the butt of his spear in the sand. Only then do his eyes return to the twins again, and he feels that tell-tail itch begin to fester again. That itch of suspicion, of having the wool pulled over his eyes, of not being able to understand what lies directly in front of him.

“Forgive me,” Dimitri calls out as he jogs over to the twins.. “I do not mean to intrude upon your conversation, but I could not help but notice that some of the signs you used were…unfamiliar to me.” 

Bileth and Veles stop their signs and both fix him with their wide, near unblinking gaze. 

Dimitri pauses for a moment before clearing his throat. “Being able to understand the Goddess’ Hand is imperative for a noble such as myself, and as such, if there are any gaps in my knowledge—”

Veles shakes her head. “These are not the goddess’ signs. Before our father taught us the common signs, Bileth and I created our own.”

“You…Invented your own signed language?” Dimitri says, his eyes widening. “That is…rather impressive,” truthfully he cannot offer much more, rather than marvel at the closeness of these two mysterious mercenary siblings. “Then, I will leave you to your…conversation,” he says while dipping his head respectfully.

Bileth however shakes his head and falls into step with Dimitri as he starts off in the direction of the training dummies again. “It’s alright. Since we are here, I can offer you a spar.”

Dimitri meets the younger Eisner’s gaze with a blank look momentarily before finally nodding. “Of course, It would be my pleasure.” While fighting, Dimitri can push everything else to the side. He can forget what the professors could have been discussing, what they must have felt unsuitable for Dimitri to know. He can forget Rhea’s chilling smile, and Edelgard’s distant gaze, and he can forget how very soon he will just have to face it all again.

“Now, professor, sword or lance?” He asks, with his smile now perfectly composed.

“Lance,” Bileth replies with the faintest of smiles.

**Author's Note:**

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